


Black Ice

by that_one_the_grandniece_there



Series: Ice, Ice, Baby [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Backstory, Family, Multi, Other, Pre-Slash, implied prostitution with no details, mentions of sexual relationships with no details, teenagers kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23492560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_one_the_grandniece_there/pseuds/that_one_the_grandniece_there
Summary: Prequel to Ice, Ice, BabyDisclaimer (for the entire work- it gets tiring posting the same thing in every chapter): I do not own any part of Naruto. I am not making any money from writing fan fiction. I'm really not a threat to the franchise. Please don't sue me for playing in the sandbox.I intend to write a new KakaIru called Ice, Ice, Baby. In order to do that, though, Iruka needed a bit of a different back story than usual. This is that story. Iruka belongs to both the Yuki and Nara clans distantly- he is a BAMF but hopefully not a Mary Sue. He uses watered down versions of each clan's Justus together to form a unique style. It becomes known as "Black Ice," but Iruka is only interested in it intellectually- and when he accidentally almost kills someone with it during his jounin trials, he withdraws his candidature and asks to bind his powers; choosing to be a career chuunin, without the use of a special technique.Rated mostly for a lot of language and some violence- they talk about the birds and the bees, but there is no actual smut. Closest thing is teenagers kissing, in not much detail.
Series: Ice, Ice, Baby [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690264
Comments: 13
Kudos: 80





	1. The Run

**Author's Note:**

> A.N. Hey, all! So, I just wanted to clarify that I am not abandoning Mission Baby, even though it has been over a year- my laptop was like 15 years old and I haven’t been able to access all of my old writing files on it and I didn’t want to write it like shit out of my head, I wanted to follow my plan, so I was avoiding fanfiction for a while so that my writing didn’t turn out like crap. As soon as I can, I will get a hold of those old files and start working on it again- I just can’t afford to get the old laptop fixed and am just lucky to have something to work on now- and with being quarantined, what better time to foray back into this smutty, smutty world? Anyhow, I always foray back softly by reading before writing, so I have been reading many fics over the last three days. I recently read one that turned most KakaIru fics on their head- with Kakashi being the one to bring home a baby and NOT Iruka. The idea niggled its way into my brain and wouldn’t let go. So here I am- I want to turn my Mission Baby idea on its head and have Kakashi be the one to bring a child home, then need Iruka’s help instead of the other way around. In order to do that, though, I felt the need to write an Iruka-centric backstory. Anyone who’s read any of my Ruka Rants before knows that I like him as a BAMF, but not a Mary Sue. There is no character development and no fun when one is a Mary Sue. Also- he really isn’t that far off some of the Tokubetsu’s or weaker Jounin scores, so. There’s that. Plus, the ponytail, which looks SOOO Nara-esque that it is just too tempting; and with his exotic (most of the Naruto-verse in Konoha are some variation of fair-skinned, despite supposedly being in a Japanese-like setting) colouring and seaside name (in the middle of Fire Country), I figure it is not too much of a stretch to imagine some of his folks as immigrants. Therefore, without further ado, I present to you Black Ice. (P.S. I do not own Naruto and am making no money writing fanfiction.)
> 
> Also, my story rearranges some ages (not much- the ‘adult’ shinobi all still have the same age gaps/etc., as do Naruto’s generation, it is just that there are more years between the two- so while all the children would be the right ages from the beginning of the manga/anime, all the adults would be five years older. I also needed to play a bit with Iruka’s history, but I didn’t want to change it too much. Iruka will in fact be with his parents as they die, only not at the Kyuubi attack- it will be when he is younger, and at the hands of a Kiri-nin. Finally, I will play slightly with Asuma's timeline as well. I like, him, I do. I don't want to kill him off earlier, really. It just..... sort of worked out that way this time.

Chapter One: The Run

N.B. The italics are a side-story, the teller of this tale would not have known this part, but I wanted the reader to. Also, I could not find any info on Shikaku’s father, so I named him Shikantekku, a smoosh-up of “old” and the traditional “shika” beginning.

\-------------

“Please.”

The Kiri hunter-nin continued to advance.

“Please!” The young woman held tighter to her charge.

The hunter-nin still did not stop.

“He’s only a child,” she whispered forlornly, looking down into the toddler’s face.

Finally, the hunter-nin spoke. Her voice was gravelly, “He will grow.”

Hopeful, that she had at least gotten the hunter to speak to her, the young woman ploughed on. “I will raise him as my own, Shinobi-sama. No one will know.” She turned her pleading eyes up towards the blank mask.

The hunter-nin repeated, “He will grow.”

Close to her breaking point, the girl, barely a woman, raises her voice in frustration, “I will not _let_ him know! I will not _let_ him learn! I am _not_ a Yuki!” She hugged the boy closer to her chest. She finished in a whisper, “I could teach him nothing, even if I wished to.” She glared into the snow beside her knees. “Which I _don’t._ ”

“You are one of their favoured.”

“I am nothing but a civilian nanny! They _paid_ me for my time! But,” she looks down into the face of her charge, “it is not his fault to whom he was born. _I_ love him, _I_ have raised him for them. He will never know. He will be _mine_.” She tightens her hold once again, choosing not to look up at the Kiri-nin again, afraid of what her decision will be, what the fate of she and her young charge will be. She knows she would be no match for the hunter-nin. It would be like a rabbit fighting a hawk. She could try, but she would fail. She keeps her head bowed for so long that when she finally raises her eyes, she has no idea how long the hunter has been gone.

\-------------

_The hunter-nin wonders if she has done the right thing. She knows a painful death awaits her if she returns to the Mizukage without the child’s head or heart. She wishes she never had to make choices like these. She gazes at her hands, sickened at what they had done during this civil war. It was one thing to kill able-bodied shinobi and quite another to murder babes in the arms of civilian servants. Once far enough away from the young civilian and unfortunate child, she walks into the sea, waiting for the cold embrace of death, the only warmth left in her the knowledge that she traded what was left of her wretched life for the price of two lives- two young lives. She prays that the sea will claim her completely and no one will ever find her mask or hitai-ate, lest they discover she let a Yuki go._

\-------------

Nozomi walks, for what seems like months to the untrained civilian. Though, it is only a week until they leave the icy grip of the seaside. Good riddance, she thinks, refusing to take a last look at the storm addled direction they had traveled from, beyond which lay the sea that held the islands of the Land of Mist.

Each night, as she lays them down to sleep, she prays they will be warm enough to live through the night, not knowing if there are other Kiri-hunters on their tail, afraid to build a fire.

Each night, as her young charge looks up at her with his warm brown eyes and whispers, “I’m hungry, Nomi-chan,” her heart tightens; their food rations are very low. She could not run carrying both a full rucksack and a three-year old.

She gently corrects him, “Kaa-san, little Yuki-Boshi, you must call me Kaa-san from now on, and I will call you my Zarame. Enough to melt my heart. Enough again to melt that of a Kiri-hunter. We will be able to eat all we want soon. I promise little one, soon.”

She cries herself to sleep as she listens to him try out his new name, whispered on innocent lips, “Zarame, Zarame. Zarame and Kaa-san.” She stifles her sniffles as the child cuddles closer into the warmth of her coat.

\-------------

It has been several moths in Konoha. As promised, her little one has all he can eat, and her belly too, is full every night, with a roof over their heads. Though it does not come without a price. She has learned all too quickly that nothing does.

As she steps out of her yukata, moving towards the client in her bed, she reminds herself that nothing is free. Though, she muses, she would give up anything, _anything_ , even this, for her little one. Nozomi is nothing if not hopeful that her sacrifices will give her little one a better life than this.

\-------------

It has been almost a year in Konoha now. She can afford not to take a client every night. Their apartment is no longer in an unsafe neighbourhood. Her little one, now just over four, is happy and carefree. Their small cottage is on the outskirts of Konoha, almost an hour’s walk from the bustle of the village centre, partly why she rents it so cheap. The other is that the clan that owns this patch of forest seems to be very intuitive. The old one, the patriarch- sometimes, he looks at her little one like he knows. But she feels no threat of them telling. They are a solitary type, most of the clan members. They must also know what she does to put food on the table, but still, they are quiet and respectful. One of the young women seems to have even taken pity on her and when times get tight, brings them food- Nozomi knows it is not just extra, that the young woman makes it especially for them, but she doesn’t admit it and neither does the other young woman. She knows it is more out of kindness than pity, but still, she feels indebted.

So, when the young woman stumbles over the gate one day, severely injured from a mission, Nozomi takes her home. Nurses her back to health. And they become best friends.

A year and a half later, when the other young woman falls pregnant and births a beautiful baby girl called Mejika, Zarame takes care of her like a younger sister.

Five years down the road, they are fast friends, just like their mothers.

Another fifteen years down the road, lovers, then husband and wife.

The clan does not disown them as some would, but when the civil war in Kiri raises its ugly head again, Mejika’s grandfather advises them to move their home into the village center, where it would be more difficult for enemy-nin to penetrate. There, their daughter Kohari meets a young shinobi travelling with his merchant uncle as protection, and falls in love. He is the child of a shinobi father from Yugakure and a mother from the village of Nadeshiko; though as a son and not a daughter, he is free to leave the village and settle in Konoha, which he did.

The man’s name was Umino Ikkaku.

\-------------

The pony-tailed man looks down at the boy on his lap. He brushes some hair back from his face. “Do you understand, now, Iruka?”

The little boy scrunches up his nose, the cut across it reopening and bleeding. Shikantekku looks into the warm brown eyes, wonders if he’s told his cousin’s son too much. Then, he considers, the boy is a Nara- only a quarter, but still. He also just watched his parents suffer, as a pre-genin, he probably knew they were dying when he was dragged away- so whether or not he is ready, their world demands he be ready.

Shikantekku presses a pad of gauze gently to the boy’s nose. He continues gently, “You were raised mostly away from the clan because grandfather was afraid to be pulled into the Kiri civil war. But we will not let a child fend for himself against a nation hell-bent on murdering younglings. I will be the next clan head, and I have my father’s permission to adopt you, raise you as one of my own with my own son, your cousin Shikaku. Would you like that, Iruka?”

The boy scrunches up his nose again, and Shikantekku sighs, pressing slightly harder with the gauze. “Stop that, Iruka-kun, or the scarring will be worse.”

The boy finally answers with a small, “No. Shikan-oji, I want to go back to my own Kaasan and my own Tousan.”

The pony-tailed man sighed again, cursing that the boy is still too young to completely understand. He tells the six-year-old, “Iruka, that is not possible. Your Kaasan and your Tousan are not coming back. You are my family because your mother was my family, and I will take care of you now.”

The little boy, perhaps showing a touch of the Nara intelligence after all, looks up at him again with those big brown eyes and whispers, “Whether I like it or not?”

Shikantekku suppresses a wistful smile. Of course, the boy will have picked up that expression from Kohari- they had both picked it up from their grandfather before them. Some things never change. “Yes, though I do hope you will.” He pats the boy on the head, “Like it, I mean.”

The boy scrunches his nose again. “Hm. We’ll see.”

The boy hops off his lap and swishes his loose locks flippantly as he walks to the Hokage’s desk to inspect some knickknacks, leaving he and the Sandaime to speak alone, and Shikantekku supresses another small smile. The boy did not seem to have inherited the relaxed Nara attitude.

“I must say, Shikantekku, I am disappointed your grandfather never felt the need to share this story with me at any point in my tenure as Hokage.” He takes a deep drag on his pipe, watching the young boy mucking about at the desk.

“She was a civilian with a child. There was never any inclination that Kiri even knew they had escaped them. She did not let Zarame enter the Academy and she was the epitome of a loving mother. We had no reason to disrupt the peace. Then, once my aunt married Zarame, well, they were family and there was no going back.”

The Sandaime sighed. “You Naras. Always looking at the long game.”

Shikantekku made no acknowledgement that he’d heard, though the Sandaime knew he had, so he continued, “Why did they attack now, then?”

It was Shikantekku’s turn to sigh. “We assumed that since she never presented it at the Academy, that my cousin did not inherit the Yuki kekkai genkai. Grandfather never even told her or her father, Zarame, for that matter, of the possibility, and now I wish maybe he had. Instead, it was a secret that was supposed to go to the grave with my cousin’s grandmother. I was only told as I am being trained as the next clan head. On her last S-rank- it was a difficult one- a teammate told me that Kohari instinctively created senbon out of ice and sent them flying at the enemy. She did not even have a chance to tell us as she only returned home last night. I learned of it this morning, after seeking out one of her teammates before arriving here. Though it must have gotten back to the Land of Mist while she journeyed home- either that or they still have a standing order to obliterate any nin who seems to present a Kiri kekkai genkai. They do not care if it is only a possibility- in their eyes, all users of their kekkai genkai or even possible users, must be destroyed.”

Sandaime watched Iruka for another minute or two. “Has he presented?”

“No.”

“Do they know he exists?”

“Grandfather removed Iruka- forcibly, might I add- he is quite the spitfire, that little one- from his home before the Kiri-nin had finished my cousin and her husband. I killed the hunter myself, but there was no saving Kohari or Ikkaku.” The brunet hung his head, scrubbing a hand over his weary features. He looked up again, “We were lucky Kohari wasn’t in shreds like some of the Kiri victims we’ve come across before. Apparently, Iruka-kun got that cut jumping into the fray- a bit of a dim move for a Nara, but brave, I suppose. Anyways, we sent out a party to search for more Kiri hunter-nins. There was no trace of any other enemy-nin, so I don’t think they know. They knew only of Kohari, must have followed her here straight after her mission.”

Sandaime nodded succinctly. “Good. I want it to stay that way. The boy will take on a Nara name. We must hope he presents with your gifts, and not his mother’s.”

Shikantekku nods. “Yes, thank you, Hokage-sama.” He gets up to leave.

“Oh, and Nara?”

He stops and turns back towards the other man momentarily. “Yes?”

“Now that I know, you will not keep anything secret from me again. Arrange for the boy to visit me once a week for tea. I would like to talk to him regularly.”

The Nara bowed slightly. “Of course, Sandaime.”

\-------------

As Shikantekku left with Iruka’s small hand in his own, the boy looked up at him through long lashes and asked, with a small smile, “Shikan-oji, what does hell-bent mean?”

Shikantekku’s eyes widened slightly. It had been a while since Shikaku was this young and impressionable. He would have to remember to watch his language, it seemed Iruka was a sponge.


	2. A Little Troublesome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N.B. The Naras and Sandaime are trying to hide Iruka from any possible Kiri-nins, so they refer to him out loud as Oshika (sometimes Oshi for short), but in the Nara compound, Shikaku (not their parents) still refers to him as Iruka, and in narration/Iruka’s POV/thoughts, he is still referred to as Iruka. Again, it is only when in public that Iruka goes by Oshika. Sorry if that is confusing. Also- the ponytail comment- it’s not that Iruka is sexist- it’s that he’s six. Properly worn, ponytails can be sexy on men, lol. Also….. I don’t always include the ‘self-discovery’ part of finding out my characters are either gay or bi, but I thought it was a cute way to show the “Iruka’s smart when he cares but not all the time” caveat. It also gives him a bit of closure- knowing at least one set of his parents support him in his identity (though I’m sure the other set would have too).

\-------------

Iruka did _not_ like his new name. He did _not_ like his new room. He did _not_ like wearing his long hair in a stupid _pony-tail_. As far as he was concerned, pony-tails were for girls. The boy sat pouting on the floor, arms crossed over his chest and Academy textbook on the floor, where it had landed after bouncing off the mirror when he threw it. He _wanted_ his Kaasan. His real one. He picked at the hem of his blue t-shirt.

When he heard a soft knock at his door, he huffed quietly and pouted harder. He refused to answer the door. Iruka heard it open anyways and soft feet pad across the room. When he chanced a peek, he saw it was his cousin, Shikaku. Iruka supposed he didn’t mind Shikaku as much as he hated everything else. He even liked that his cousin told him he could call him Nii-san. Not that the hard-headed six-year-old would ever admit it out loud.

Shikaku smiled when he noticed his cousin subtly scoot closer to him when he sat down nearby.

“I know it’s hard, Iruka.”

Iruka harrumphed. “You’re not supposed to call me that, remember? I have a _new name_.” After infusing those few words with as much sarcasm as a six-year-old could muster (surprisingly, a lot, Shikaku pondered) and using air quotes, he balled up his fists and looked away.

“It’s okay, we’re at home. No one can hear us here. I know you like your name. But Oshika is not really that different from Iruka, is it? They rhyme.” The teenager, though usually very stoic, had developed an instant soft spot for his cousin, who seemed so young and small. “And you get to have me as a big brother, even though I know you miss your Kaasan and Tousan, right?”

Iruka just hunched his shoulders and pouted harder.

Shikaku smiled softly, “I’ll tell you what, ok?”

Iruka peeked at him nearly imperceptibly out of the corner of his eyes, then continued to stare resolutely at the blank wall in the near-dusk.

“How about you come and stay with me in my room tonight, like a real shinobi camp-out?” He paused, waiting for the younger brunet to take the bait, then he added, “Tomorrow we can even train together.”

He saw Iruka’s eyes widen despite himself. The boy turned to him slowly. “Really?”

Shikaku nodded. Iruka inched closer.

“It’s not too…..” the younger boy cast around for a word, then looked up with, Shikaku’s own, “ _troublesome_ for you?”

Shikaku smiled. “Not for my new little brother.”

Iruka turned into the older boy’s side, catching him hard round the middle. Shikaku pretended not to notice the tears he scrubbed away violently when he came up for air. “Ok, thank you….. Shikaku-nii.”

Shikaku smiled again. For smiles like that, that lit up the boy’s face, not too troublesome at all.

\-------------

The young man landed lightly on his feet as the boy slid backwards, then snapped his head up, eyes zeroing in on his opponent like lasers. Both were breathing hard, even the older fighter. It seemed his younger brother had been training hard while he was gone on his recent month-long S-Class.

Iruka’s shirt was torn in three places, blood seeping through the topmost tear, he was missing the weapons pouch from his left thigh, his pony-tail was very askew and he had singe-marks from the bottom of his left sandal up to his knee. However, Shikaku noticed, he _had_ managed to drive a kunai close enough to the more experienced nin to make a slight nick in his bicep.

Shikaku smiled, bowing slightly, indicating the end of their match. Iruka slowly stood, and mirrored him, then dusted off some of the dirt on his knees. Training together had become a bit of a tradition for them ever since Iruka’s first night at the Nara complex. It was a weekly occurrence as long as Shikaku was in town. Shikaku was glad to notice, that in the last five years, not only had his adopted brother grown as a shinobi- but he seemed more comfortable calling the Nara compound his home and had bounced back (as children easily do) from the traumatic attack that stole his parents. Iruka had taken to calling his Oji-san and wife Otousan and Okaasan, to differentiate them from his biological parents, whom he had called Tousan and Kaasan.

It had only taken a week for Iruka to learn to answer to his clan name, and he still sometimes complained that wearing the ponytail pulled his hair too tight and gave him headaches- but everyone had grown to love the sunny child, who- while not as strategically intelligent as Shikaku (unless it came to pulling pranks and subsequently escaping capture from the authorities; so Shikaku assumed it was selective intelligence, kind of like selective mutism- if Iruka didn’t give a shit, he was just average- it was only for things he truly cared about that he demonstrated above-average intelligence and creativity; he had a particular penchant for seals and a love of….. explosives- _shudder_ ), was outgoing, kind and probably too sweet for a genin. He was a bit more exuberant than the rest of the cousins, but many of the troublesome women who had married into the clan were very proud of his fiery disposition, saying it was about time a Nara man came along that might bite back. Seeing as how Iruka had only been in his first year as a pre-genin at the Academy- most people assumed when his parents died, so had he and when the Naras introduced Oshika when he was mentally ready to return to the Academy, well, he was still young enough that most people assumed he was Shikantekku’s biological son. Especially given the dark hair and eyes. Those that might have put two and two together- well, they were few and far between and memory had a funny way of letting you forget these things after a while. It helped that Sandaime and the Naras kept everything very quiet- and that Iruka’s new scar was right in the middle of his face- while it didn’t make him look much different than he had before, it was a focal point.

At ten and a half, Iruka was now a recent genin graduate and had been working with the young Jounin-sensei Hyuga Hizashi. Shikaku knew instinctively that his brother was talented, but he did worry that the boy did not seem to possess the killer instinct that was second nature to shinobi- the boy barely had a mean bone in his body. The only person Shikaku had ever seen his brother attack with the intent to truly harm was a bully at the Academy that had been picking on his group of friends. With him now out in the field as a genin, it meant a lot more worry for the older Nara. He spent time with him as often as possible when in the village.

\-------------

After they had cleaned up and had dinner (and done a little cloud watching), Shikaku took Iruka into the village proper for some ice cream. Shikaku may not favour the sticky concoction himself but goodness knows his brother has a sweet tooth the size of the Hokage Tower.

It was just Shikaku’s luck that they had run into Yoshina at the ice-cream stand. After leaving the brothers in peace (but not before berating the older for some obscure slight against her person), Iruka took a few pensive licks of his ice cream cone.

“Shikaku-nii?”

“Yes?”

“If women are so troublesome, why do we like them?”

Shikaku cocked an eyebrow at his brother, “What do you mean, Oshi-kun?”

“I _mean_ , why don’t we just have sex with other men? Then we wouldn’t have to deal with all the troublesome girly stuff.”

Shikaku nearly choked on air and stumbled. Red as a tomato, he turned to the boy, seemingly innocently licking at his ice cream. “Y-you know about s-sex?”

Iruka rolled his eyes. “Of _course_ , I’m almost eleven.”

Shikaku recovered and it only a slightly mocking tone, responded, “ _Of course._ ” Because, you know, all ten-year olds know about _sex_. He shuddered, wondered who his brother had picked that knowledge up from.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“So why do you want to have sex with Yoshina-san if she’s so troublesome?”

Shikaku’s eyes bulged comically. “I don’t- I never said- what makes you think….. How do you know I like her?”

Iruka shrugs. “Just do. You’re my brother. I pay attention to these things.” He licks some ice cream off his fingers as it starts to melt.

They walk in silence for a little while.

“So…..”

Shikaku sighs. “So, what?”

“So, are you gonna ask her out?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

“Hm, what?”

“Hm, nothing.”

“You don’t ‘Hm,’ for nothing, Iruka,” Shikaku intones as they enter the safety of the Nara grounds.

Iruka shrugs. Shikaku didn’t need to know that Iruka planned on playing matchmaker- who said the guy had to ask the girl out, anyways? He was sure he could trick Yoshina-san into asking his brother out herself. He knew they’d both like that.

Shikaku hoped that was the end of the conversation.

\-------------

It wasn’t.

“Otousan, why did you marry Okaasan?”

Shikantekku looks fondly at his adopted son. “Well, I love your Okaasan, so…..”

“Yes,” Iruka interrupts, “but why didn’t you love another man?”

Shikantekku splutters and coughs around his drink, while his wife hides a small giggle behind her hand. “Why would you ask that, Oshika-kun?”

Iruka scrunches up his nose. “Well, I kissed Anko-chan, and I kissed Genma-kun, and there wasn’t much difference, so why do we marry girls when you and Nii-san always say they’re so troublesome?”

A narrow-eyed, “Why _indeed_?” from his wife has Shikantekku sweating a bit.

“Well, you see, um…..” While it was rare for a Nara to be speechless, this was a rather _delicate_ topic, especially at the breakfast table.

“Do you like boys, Oshi-kun?” His Okaasan asks, turning a softer glance towards him.

Iruka blushes. “Well, um, I like girls too, it’s just, um, yes? Kind of, yes?” He glances down at his shinobi sandals under the table. “Is that ok?” His large, doe-like brown eyes peer up at the grown-ups at the table.

Shikaku tries (miserably) to lighten the mood by responding, “Well, for _you_ it’s ok, since you’re a second son. You’ll only have to produce an heir if I, you know, _die_ or something.”

Iruka’s eyes grow impossibly larger, “If you _die_?” He whispers, aghast.

Their mother intervenes with an exasperated look at her oldest. “Honestly, and you two think women are troublesome?” Properly chastised, both older men wisely keep their mouths shut and keep eating.

Iruka feels his Okaasan pull his chin up from contemplating his plate. Oshi-kun, look at me.”

He does, albeit reluctantly. “Don’t listen to Shikaku. Your brother is not going to die anytime soon. He is a very talented shinobi. And you,” she pulls him to her in a hug, “can love whomever you please, whether it is a man or a woman, all right?”

Iruka nods and allows himself to be hugged. It had taken him awhile to get used to calling his aunt and uncle Okaasan and Otousan, but now he felt lucky to be able to say his had not one but _two_ sets of parents that loved him.

“So,” his Okaasan continues, “You kissed both Anko-chan _and_ Genma-kun, huh? Should I be worried about this?”

Iruka continued to eat, as he answered, “Nah, I made sure to surprise Genma-kun and then I ran, and Anko-chan _wanted_ a kiss, so….. that’s ok too. And Shizune-chan turned all red when I kissed her, but she didn't say nothing. And Tetsu and Zumo-kun liked kisses so much that they asked for more, but I was tired of kissing people by then so I said no. But, hmmmmm, maybe Raidou-kun might be a little mad, because he said, ‘What the hell, kid?’ when I kissed him.”

The adults all blinked at Iruka in shock.

Shikaku began, “Iru-kun…..”

“Yes?” Wide brown eyes looked up.

“How many people did you kiss?”

Iruka frowned. “Well, I had to test my theory. You know, the one that it’s not any different kissing boys than girls.” He nodded with a smile, as if it made all the sense in the world.

Shikantekku grunted. “You finally show an interest in theory and research and this is what you want to experiment with? You’re almost as troublesome as-“

“As, what, _dear_?”

Shikantekku coughs, “Nothing. I guess I’m glad you’re showing an interest in theoretical research, Oshika-kun.”

“Uh-huh,” the boy kicks his feet under the table, “and the kissing part was fun too.”

Shikaku wants to face palm as his mother’s tinkling laugh (usually only drawn out by his brother) fills the room, “Oh, Oshi-kun, you _will_ be a little heartbreaker one day, won’t you, my boy? I’m glad you’ve not inherited the typical Nara laziness-“

Twin, “Heys!” from the older two.

“-well, it’s _true_. But you’re more like me, aren’t you, Oshi-kun, you’ve really got a fire inside!” She smiles softly, though it disappears with her husband’s next whisper, almost too low to be heard.

“ _And_ your temper.”

\-------------


	3. First Frost

Shikaku was proud of his brother. Iruka was not the fastest or strongest, nor were his hand-signs the most stream-lined of any shinobi, but at 13, and having trained with the young Nara Jounin himself for the last seven years, and Hizashi-san’s team for nearly three- Hizashi had nominated his whole team for the Chuunin exams the next week, and if Iruka passed- which Shikaku was 85% certain he would, then he would be earning his promotion just before turning 14.

Their mother had been right about Iruka- though kind to a fault, he did have a naturally very flirty personality and while he certainly didn’t _mean_ to, he was a bit of a heartbreaker. It didn’t help that both of his genin teammates were strong, forward girls that gave him advice all the time. True to his past, Iruka has also continued to be _selectively_ intelligent (whish annoyed his father to no end, though Shikaku had to admit, was rather amusing), preferring only to use his brains when he needed ‘A Plan,’ or when he wanted to win (he was very competitive, and though he still couldn’t beat his brother or their father, he could wipe the floor with all of his classmates at Shogi). He continued to demonstrate a pacifist streak- almost to a worrying point- it had actually resulted in injuries (minor, thank goodness) on missions and during friendly spars before. As it turns out, it seems he is also selectively lazy- for while he doesn’t mind light training or taking care of the deer, he certainly dislikes cooking and chores (or maybe that’s just him being a teenager) and will often disappear to cloud-watch when it’s time to clean his room.

\-------------

Since the clan heads almost always all attend the Chuunin exams, Shikaku finds it odd that their father seems nervous when Iruka’s approach. When he brings the subject up, Shikantekku deflects many times before answering, “I’m worried. This is a different caliber of fighter and trials he will be facing and he has not yet presented any of his….. gifts.”

Shikaku wonders what the worst that could happen would be if Iruka demonstrated the Nara affinity for shadows during a Chuunin trial, but he says nothing as he slants his eyes away from their father to watch the first match.

\-------------

Iruka hits the wall, feeling his right shoulder pop out of its socket because of the odd angle. _Fuck, how is this opponent only taking the Chuunin trials now? He’s almost as strong as Shikaku-nii! What the fuck am I supposed to do??!!_

Iruka stays with his back close against the wall. He knows he’s only a quarter Nara- but he’d hoped that he might still present with a shadow affinity so he could learn all the clan jutsus. As it is, it seems to be all he can do to stay one step ahead of the other fighter. He blocks a barrage of shuriken, meeting each in the air with a razor-sharp leaf jutsu to deflect them and raising his left arm- _my last good arm, damnit!-_ to stop a kunai from slicing his jaw open.

He ducks below his opponent’s arm and rolls away, popping up behind and turning quickly. _Shikaku-nii said it feels like an instinct, a primal pull towards shadows in my belly._

Iruka slaps a seal onto his opponent’s back that paralyses him in place for thirty seconds while Iruka high-tails it to the other side of the arena to gather himself and plan. As he runs, he turns his focus inwards.

 _I don’t have a lot of time. Shikaku-nii and Otousan tell me all the time that being too nice is going to get me hurt one day. I can’t be nice. I have to be strong. I have to use my instincts. I have to dig deep, deeper than I have before. Deeper than I think I can._ He skids to a halt and raises an arm as he turns, hearing the other nin hot on his tail. _Feel the pull. Dig deep. Feel the shadows gather in you. I can do this._ His eyes pop open, blazing with the Will of Fire as he lets out a shout and finally feels the pull in his belly, just like his brother describes, and expects a shadowy tendril to shoot out of his own as he finishes extending his arm, flipping his palm out towards his opponent, only….. only- that’s _not_ a shadow flying towards his opponent.

_What the fuck?!?!_

\-------------

Shikaku is on the edge of his seat, leaning forward watching his brother’s match and is too involved to notice how hard their father is holding onto the arm rests, almost to the point of them splintering as they watch the other genin skid to a halt as what seems to be black frost pools around Iruka’s feet and slithers outwards, then slickening out to a shine, like black ice on a road.

He does, notice, however, when his mother lets out an involuntary guttural wail of, “No!”

\-------------

Iruka passed the exam. Just barely, but a pass is a pass, and he’s even the only one from his team to make it this first try, so he really doesn’t understand why he’s waiting outside the Hokage’s office with his brother, while their father and the Sandaime are speaking in harsh and hurried whispers.

Though he tells Shikaku all the time that he’s getting too old to be treated like a baby, he still slides closer to him on the bench and snuggles up under one of his arms.

“What’s wrong, Shikaku?” he whispers, “Am I in trouble?”

Shikaku doesn’t let his uncertainty how on his face as he answers, “No, of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong. You did great, Oshi-kun.” He ruffles the boy’s hair, loosing several strands from the ponytail.

“Stop it,” Iruka laughs, batting his brother’s hands away and smoothing his hair. Neither notice the wolf-masked ANBU waiting on another bench tilt it’s head, almost as if it’s rolling its eyes at them.

“Though, I must say, Oshi-kun- I’m really impressed by that last jutsu you used. Where did you learn that? Was it from Hizashi-san?”

Iruka suddenly finds his sandals very interesting, and Shikaku leans in until his ear is almost flush with his brother’s cheek in order to hear the softly whispered, “It wasn’t a jutsu. I just did what you told me to do to try and find the pull in my belly. I thought it would be a shadow. I- I don’t know what it _was_ , Nii-san, and I’m afraid!”

Shikaku pulls his little brother in closer to his side, if only to hide the worry on his face. When they get home that evening, and his parents explain why they were called to the Hokage Tower straight after Iruka’s match, and that his brother will be training at home to control his kekkai genkai- which is _not_ just shadows, apparently, Shikaku can’t help but wonder at how troublesome this training will be and how it will wreak havoc on his napping schedule.

When they explain why Iruka’s shadows appear like frost, and who may or may not come after him if they find out it’s not just jutsu- _well,_ then Shikaku decides he has to do something about it. He’s a _Nara_ , for shit’s sake, they’re frigging geniuses. If it keeps Iruka safe, then he’ll think of _something_.

\-------------

He does.

Their father teaches Iruka how to wield and control both shadows, and as well as he can, ice. Both older Naras research the Yuki clan as thoroughly and quietly as they can, and explain how important it is for Iruka to keep it hidden. In time, they hope to teach him to separate his gifts and be able to use the shadows without the ice, so that he may use the Nara gift openly- but that will take time, lots of time.

But their parents would prefer Iruka never to use the ability because it is safer that way, but Shikaku- who had not been there the night his father’s cousin and husband died and did not see firsthand the disaster, and determining that he’d rather his brother use a forbidden gift and survive a fight than not and get hurt- or worse, die—is the one that tries to help his brother hide the fact that it’s not always jutsu, but is in fact a kekkai genkai by using sleight of hand.

Make them watch one thing, while hiding another- he suggests Iruka wear a cloak. Which works….. for a while. Until Iruka starts finding it cumbersome and their mother points out that wearing a full cloak in Fire Country is a bit odd and draws more attention than it deflects. He buys Iruka flashy gloves, long sleeves, arm guards, everything he can think of to draw attention away from his hands, or cover them.

\-------------

It isn’t until Iruka is on his tenth mission as a Chuunin that the importance of what his parents and brother are trying to help him hide sinks in. He’s still working with Hizashi-sensei’s team most of the time, though he sometimes works with other Chuunin too, like Kotetsu and Izumo, or Anko- though she’s been considered for promotion to tokubetsu lately.

This time, he’s with both his former team and his new all-chuunin team, since it’s a higher-ranked mission. His brother had had a near apoplectic conniption fit (quite a rare and interesting sight for one of the Nara men to get that worked up, Iruka muses to himself) when he heard how close to the Land of Mist border they’d be getting. Iruka, however, in all his teenaged idiocy, insisted he go anyways. Since Sandaime could think of no explanation to Hizashi or the other shinobi why he’d need to keep Iruka back without letting any secrets slip, he begrudgingly let him go.

Given their destination, Shikaku and their parents insist Iruka take extra precautions, such as obscuring his face and masking his chakra signature once they cross outside of the Konoha border, so it’s harder to recognize- a trick Okaasan had brought from her own village and taught to both her children. They remind him to echo-locate no matter where he is before he ever uses his special ability so he can make sure no one who shouldn’t see does- if he even uses it- which they insist he shouldn’t. Their father also has him sign the family scroll to be able to summon the deer from their estate at will, an honour every Nara is bestowed upon his or her promotion to Chuunin.

Now, with Tetsu, Zumo and both his former teammates out cold, it was down to only he, Anko-chan and Hizashi-sensei against what was left of the dozen nukenin and Iruka was finding it increasingly hard not to use his special gifts to give them an edge against the half dozen left. If he had been _anywhere_ but at the border to Mist- though, Iruka glanced around, there were no nins with a Kiri headband…..

He pulls his long scarf surreptitiously over one of his hands to hide his lack of hand signals and sends a volley of icy black senbon towards the treeline, where the enemy have entrenched themselves. He’s never used these techniques outside of the Nara grounds or that first time at the Chuunin exams, so Hizashi and Anko give him a bit of side-eye, but then the enemy vaults out of hiding and they’re all too busy to say anything about it. Or notice the glint of light off a headband of a nin hidden near the docks that moor the ferries to Mist.

\-------------

The old ways have slowly been falling out of favour, but that doesn’t matter to the Kiri-nin hiding nearby. Fact is- his grandmother had gone missing on a mission to exterminate what was supposed to be the last of the Yuki scum. His family’s reputation had never fully recovered from it, especially since the child had never been found, either. The boy with the ponytail- he wouldn’t have been born back then yet, and his ice looked _kinda funny_ , but it was unmistakably _ice_. It wasn’t like the famed mirrors, either, but….. it _was_ senbon made of _ice_. The Kiri-nin couldn’t tell if the boy had been making hand signs or not, but he didn’t really care. If it was a Yuki, he’d be rewarded handsomely for the body. If it wasn’t, well, then it was still another enemy nation’s shinobi, dead, wasn’t it? Without reporting back to Mist, he decides to wait it out. The two warring sides could decimate each other, then he’d simply step in to claim his prize.


	4. Of Ice and Anger

Hizashi wasn’t happy about it, per se, but all things considered, things _could_ have turned out worse. Sure, half his team and the other team were in completely shitty shape- but they were all _alive_ and they had retrieved the requested scrolls. Neither of his two genin were in very good travelling condition and neither was either of the older male chuunin.

That left Anko and Iruka, since he could not leave his two genin alone. Anko was technically superior to Iruka, she was being considered for the position of Tokubetsu Jounin, but the fact was- well, the fact was, Hizashi didn’t _know_ Anko very well. Sure, she was only a little kid when Orochimaru took her, but she was now a teenager and while she seemed to make the decision to side with Konoha, you just never knew for sure. He did know Iruka, though. He had recently been one of his own genin. He wasn’t as fast or as experienced on his own as Anko, but Hizashi and the Sandaime _trusted_ him explicitly- and he was clever. So, as the captain, he chose to keep Anko behind with him to help the injured travel home, while sending Iruka ahead with the required scrolls, since a lone shinobi could travel faster unhindered by injured comrades and the information contained therein really was time-sensitive. _It is not as if the boy is in the Bingo Book- he probably will not run into any trouble if he keeps his head down._

\-------------

Kakashi was fucking cold. He hated the Land of Mist almost as much as he hated the Land of Snow. It was always So. Fucking. Cold. And wet. Kakashi hated the cold and wet. He hated the bone-deep chill of constant rain.

The civil war in Kirigakure had mostly simmered down, but that didn’t mean that the Kages of the other Hidden Villages meant to keep their hands out of things. He’d just been sent to assassinate one of the key political figures in the Daimyo’s court that still wanted to uphold the long-standing Kill on Sight order to all of their shinobi for any kekkai genkai users. It was harsher than even the Bingo Book- they didn’t care if they were shinobi or just men, women and children that could maybe, possibly have it- if you were from one of Mist’s clans, say, Yuki, for example or even believed to be- you were a dead man walking if you ran across a Kiri-nin or came too close to the border.

He repressed a shiver as he wondered why the hell he even had to be here. This political figure had been around for the last decade- what had changed? He had no idea why the Sandaime had pushed this one on the council so hard, but apparently there had been a lot of pressure from he and three of the Konoha Clan Heads in the last few weeks to have this mission approved. Oh well, it really wasn’t any of his business. All he needed to do was follow orders. Only, he just wished those orders took him somewhere warmer, for once.

He inwardly cursed his porcelain ANBU mask. Porcelain got fucking cold. It was freezing his whole fucking face. He wished he were home already, in nice, _warm_ , Fire Country. And his sleeves! Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to make ANBU uniforms _sleeveless_? Probably civilians that liked to gawk at shinobi’s muscles. Seriously, these things were more idiotic and impractical for a ninja than high heels were for women. Even his billowing white cloak wasn’t keeping out the chill or the sharp snowflakes.

_Fuck it,_ Kakashi thought, _they gave me two weeks travel time there and two weeks back, I’m ahead of schedule. I need to find a place to camp. Preferably a cave where I can hide a nice, warm fire._

It was then that he felt chaotic bursts of chakra from up ahead. Now, most shinobi with a lick of sense would just pass on by unless they happened to be close to their own village. Kakashi, however much of a genius he may be, was _not_ as self-preserving as most shinobi. He dampened his own chakra and sped up, changing his heading slightly, more _towards_ the obvious fight.

\-------------

 _On a good day_ , Iruka thought, _I could take this guy._ He was on the older side, maybe in his late twenties, which meant he most likely had years of fighting experience under his belt, but it _also_ meant he got up a little slower and maybe didn’t hit quite as hard anymore.

_He was, however_ , Iruka noted, _fighting like a man possessed. A desperate, mean edge to him, and I know why._ Iruka’s eyes slid up to the Kiri headband. If it wasn’t bad enough he was alone- he still hadn’t fully recovered from the fight earlier or even rested properly, so that he could get a head start on his team going home to Konoha.

The enemy nin must have been following him from the border, he kept taunting him by dropping hints that he knew Iruka was close to his limit. At the moment, Iruka was down to dodging. _I should have listened to Otousan and echo-located before using my Black Ice Senbon at the docks. Fuck, why today?_

He was by no means chakra-depleted, but given the fight earlier, his reserves were down by half and large chakra reserves had never been one of his fortes to begin with. He was pretty good at hand-to-hand, given the opportunity, but this Kiri-nin was a long-distance fighter, using small throwing weapons and long-range jutsus and wouldn’t let Iruka anywhere near himself.

_Damnit, Iruka, think. You’re a Nara, for fucksakes. THINK!_

Iruka dodged left, then right, then left again, but managed to stumble on a tree root and as he threw out a hand to right himself, felt a burning pain as a senbon embedded itself deep into the bicep of his outstretched arm.

_Shit!,_ He knew that feeling. Senbon hurt going in- I mean, they were literally needles- but they didn’t usually _burn_ , which meant that one was laced with something. Not knowing what kind of poison he’d been hit with, Iruka knew his window to win or escape was even smaller now. He knew it was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place, but he didn’t think he’d survive if he didn’t use his new techniques now.

_Better hunted than dead._ So, he took a deep breath and turned his focus inwards, feeling the pull in his belly, imagining it like a pulsing wave of chakra in his mind’s eye and grabbing it. Pulling his focus from inside himself and then projecting it outwards, casting a sheet of ice from the shadow below his feet across the clearing and towards the Kiri-nin.

“Abhorrence!” The other nin shouted, “You unnatural, disgusting, _monster_.” He glared daggers as he leapt backwards to avoid his feet being frozen in place. “I’ll _kill_ you,” he finished in a menacing growl.

Iruka’s eyes narrowed. From the stories Otousan had told him after his Chuunin exam and the brief history they’d studied at the Academy, as far as Iruka could tell, the citizens of Kirigakure’s irrational hatred of their own shinobi clans was not founded by ant great evil done by the kekkai genkai users, but rather a fear of what they were capable of.

_Hate me for no reason_ , Iruka thought blackly, the temper he’d been born with and that had grown to match his Okaasan’s flared like a fiery tempest in his heart- _and I will **give you a reason**_.

He knew shinobi should _control_ their emotions, but _damn_. The desire to drive his fists into the soft flesh of a bully always took Iruka by surprise- usually he wouldn’t dream of hurting anyone- but bullies? Yeah, bullies were a _whole_ different story. If it was the suffering of a bully- then he wouldn’t just inflict pain. He’d fucking _enjoy_ it. _Enjoy it._

All of a sudden, he felt like he had a second wind.

\-------------

Kakashi came up carefully on the fighting nins, settling himself in a tree out of their line of sight to observe before deciding what to do.

As he watched, he realized that one was a Konoha-nin and the other was Kirigakure. Given his current mission, he did not exactly want to cross paths with a Kiri-nin right now and give away the game. However, it looked like Konoha was on the ropes. Not good. Maybe it was a good thing Kakashi was passive-aggressively quasi-suicidal….. the Konoha-nin looked like they could use the hand.

Kiri managed to strike Konoha with a senbon and from the little strip of face between Konoha’s headband and the oversized scarf Konoha was wearing, Kakashi could tell something was wrong- the eyes widened fractionally in panic, then grim determination set in. Either that senbon had hit a chakra point or it was poisoned. Given the positioning, Kakashi figured it was poisoned. At least Konoha seemed intelligent enough to have realised that- even though Kakashi was now probably going to have to intervene if he wanted his comrade to survive this encounter- and he couldn’t in good conscience leave a fellow Konoha comrade to die if he could help it. His objective had been accomplished already, it’s not like it would interfere with his mission other than to possibly make him a bit late returning home.

Decision made, Kakashi slowly started unmasking his chakra, unfurling his long limbs and preparing to jump down into the clearing as he did so. Before he jumped, though, he heard Kiri yell, “Abhorrence! You unnatural, disgusting, _monster_. I’ll _kill_ you.”

And it was like watching in slow motion, though Kakashi knew it was moving fast enough a civilian’s eyes would have trouble keeping up. Konoha’s back shot up ramrod straight, fire burning so hot in the nin’s eyes that the intent was clearly visible. While Konoha’s chakra was about average, nothing to be _too_ proud of, Kakashi figured, the killing intent that suddenly shot through it and then exuded around the nin in waves was palpable and set even Kakashi’s gut to an uneasy roiling. That was _some kind_ of impressive anger.

_Fuck, Konoha just got a_ lot _more interesting._ Kakashi pulled his leg back up into the tree to see what would happen next.

The hand Konoha had been holding extended in front of them, fingers pointed towards Kiri and palm down suddenly shot up, palm now facing their attacker. With it, spikes of black ice sprang from the ground, which now that Kakashi was paying attention, seemed to be a sheet of black ice itself- Kiri slid backwards, almost quick enough to evade the ice’s reach, but not quite.

As Kakashi’s mouth dropped open behind his mask, with a sharp intake of breath- as _Sharingan no Kakashi, man of a Thousand Jutsus_ \- he’d been around the block and he _knew_ that technique- what seemed to be a _Yuki_ ability in a _Konoha_ nin of all people- Kiri’s foot briefly touched the sheet of ice spreading beneath him and that was all it took. The spikes of ice clamped themselves around his foot, then his calf and then his thigh like a vice. He struggled, his eyes going wild and he desperately emptied an entire weapons pouch of shuriken in Konoha’s direction.

Konoha’s eyes darkened and set into an even grimmer expression than before—two slits radiating nothing but pure hatred as they slammed a wall of ice up to stop the shuriken. As the ice wall crumbled to reveal Konoha once again, Kakashi noted that Konoha had created what seemed to be a thick armband of black ice around their left bicep, presumably to slow the spread of whatever poison they’d been hit with.

_So, Konoha was_ clever, _too and resourceful._ Kakashi liked this nin more and more. He leaned forward, anticipation making his breath shorter.

Konoha, though Kakashi could feel their chakra reserves dwindling fast, made themselves a short staircase of ice leading up to the Kiri-nin. The Kiri-nin, in turn, had begun shooting out malicious insults at Konoha, interspersed with vehement cursing.

Kakashi was glad he’d moved closer, as it allowed him to hear what Konoha growled lowly next, the timber of the voice finally tipping Kakashi off to the fact that under that billowing cloak and over-large scarf, Konoha was indeed, _male_ \- though probably not fully grown yet given the height and width of him. Probably _slightly_ younger than Kakashi’s own seventeen years, but not by much- even _he_ was still filling out some, he’d admit.

“Hate me for no reason, _bastard_ , and I’ll give you a _fucking **reason**_.” As Konoha’s voice dipped even deeper at the end, he reached out and grabbed one of Kiri’s hands, which puzzled Kakashi, until he heard the scream and saw that the hand was now frozen solid, a sheen of black ice covering it.

Kiri, though, continued his tirade, “I come from a _respected_ line of hunter-nin. We kill _abhorrences like you._ You have no idea how many of your kin I’ve hunted down like the vermin they are and killed them, freeing our great country from the dirge of the Yuki and other clans.”

Konoha cocked his head to the side. “Oh, really? And who have you killed, oh great and powerful hunter?”

If it had been Kakashi, he wouldn’t have stopped there. He’d have stopped talking a long time ago. Apparently, Kiri wasn’t as smart, though, because he continued, despite the dangerous lilt in Konoha’s voice.

“ _All_ of them. Everyone! They thought they could hide their families in the small villages. Thought they could pass as _civilians_. We won’t stop until we find you all. We won’t stop until we _kill you all_!”

Kakashi could feel the last of Konoha’s chakra vibrating with fury as he leaned into Kiri’s face and asked in a whisper, “Families?”

Kiri laughed, slightly maniacally. “Families!” He shouted, “Men, women, children- what do I care? You’re all filthy, disgusting—”

He was cut off as Konoha’s chakra started lashing out furiously, like flames licking the air around the fighters. Konoha calmly reached out and caught Kiri’s frozen hand in his again—but this time he didn’t freeze it and pull back. This time, he snapped the frozen fingers off and let them tumble to the ground. Kiri didn’t even shriek—he probably didn’t feel it since his hand was already frozen solid, Kakashi surmised—he just looked at Konoha with disbelieving eyes.

Konoha continued to speak, his tone sending shivers down Kakashi’s spine.

“Kirigakure may continue to hunt innocent families, children and civilians down, but I can assure you, you _will not_.”

With that, Konoha raised his one good palm and a shimmery ball of black ice formed itself into a kunai. Kakashi had no doubt that Konoha’s intent was to drive it into one of Kiri’s vital organs or slit his throat. However, it was at that moment that the teenager’s overuse of his chakra finally hit him, his body going slack, the armband of ice protecting him from the poison shattered and his eyes went wide in surprise.

A talented nin, no doubt, Kakashi clucked. But his inexperience was clear to the jounin, since the teen obviously hadn’t been paying much attention to his own chakra reserves.

Kiri’s eyes brightened as Konoha hit his knees on the top step of ice, though the entire structure, including the spiral holding Kiri immobile had begun to shatter.

Kakashi harrumphed as he finally jumped into the clearing, clearly surprising both nin; Konoha breathing an audible sigh of relief at the familiar Konoha ANBU uniform and the Kiri nin scrambling backwards at Kakashi’s, deep rumble of, “ _Oh, no_ , I don’t _think_ so.”

\-------------

As Iruka’s ice began to shatter around him, plummeting him to the ground in a fall he wasn’t sure his already bruised body could handle, a knot formed in his stomach, the icy grip of fear clutching his heart—he’d failed. _Failed!_

His last sight before passing out from chakra depletion was that of an ANBU in a wolf mask snapping the Kiri-nin’s neck. He breathed another sigh of relief. Whether or not he’d killed himself in the process—at least the other Konoha-nin had done what he had been too slow to do and rid the world of a merciless child-killer. _Bastard._ He passed out with a small, satisfied smile.

\-------------

N.B. Yes, the other two clan heads are the other two from the Ino-Shika-Cho trio, BUT, no, they do not know about Iruka’s full heritage. All they know is that the Naras want the politician dead, so they support them without question due to their longstanding trust and family relationships.

They are one of the few groups/people who remember Iruka is adopted- but the extent of this knowledge ends at the fact that they know he is part Nara, close enough to the main family to be considered clan- and for all intents and purposes is the head’s second son.

And yes- Iruka is a bit of a selective sadist, kind of like he seems to be a selective everything in this story, lol. The innocent? It would make him vomit to even consider harming them. Bystanders? Collateral damage makes him lose sleep at night. But making people pay for evils they’ve committed? He sees no problem with _that_ ….. and if it makes him a little _too_ satisfied when villains get what’s coming to them? Oh, well. Chalk it up to ‘that’s shinobi life,’ and, ‘hey, nobody’s perfect.’His friends and family? Oh fuck, you'd better not fuck with them. Hurting children and helpless people/creatures? You're a fucking dead person and he'll enjoy making you suffer first. Making people pay for evils they’ve committed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N.B. Yes, the other two clan heads are the other two from the Ino-Shika-Cho trio, BUT, no, they do not know about Iruka’s full heritage. All they know is that the Naras want the politician dead, so they support them without question due to their longstanding trust and family relationships. 
> 
> They are one of the few groups/people who remember Iruka is adopted- but the extent of this knowledge ends at the fact that they know he is part Nara, close enough to the main family to be considered clan- and for all intents and purposes is the head’s second son. 
> 
> And yes- Iruka is a bit of a selective sadist, kind of like he seems to be a selective everything in this story, lol. The innocent? It would make him vomit to even consider harming them. Bystanders? Collateral damage makes him lose sleep at night. His friends and family? Oh fuck, you'd better not fuck with them. Hurting children and helpless people/creatures? You're a fucking dead person and he'll enjoy making you suffer first. Making people pay for evils they’ve committed? He sees no problem with that….. and if it makes him a little too satisfied when villains get what’s coming to them? Oh, well. Chalk it up to ‘that’s shinobi life,’ and, ‘hey, nobody’s perfect.’


	5. Frost Smitten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N.B. You know that show Designated Survivor? I don’t really watch it, but it’s the best metaphor/analogy I can give for why Konoha’s clan heads and their heirs need to learn to identify ANBU. In case of emergencies, someone always needs to be ready to run things, even in the interim until a proper Hokage can be found and I’m pretty sure the clan heads are fairly high up in the pecking order of council/shinobi. Anyways…..
> 
> Also- POV switches are when there is a line break. Sorry if it jumps a lot in this chapter.

\-------------

Kakashi didn’t like or dislike people, per se. He either found them interesting, or he didn’t.

Looking across the flames dancing in the small cave he’d found, at the slumbering form of the young Konoha nin he’d rescued, Kakashi decided that despite the younger teen’s inattention to his own limit—(everyone started somewhere, experience would fix this shinobi up) he found Konoha very interesting.

After all, Kakashi himself would sometimes return to the village chakra depleted (it wasn’t _his_ fault his body wasn’t designed to wield the Sharingan), hadn’t he? As Kakashi stoked the dying flames and added another log to the fire, Konoha stirred. It was just a slight shudder, then the other teen froze.

Kakashi smiled beneath his mask. It was a typical shinobi response—the boy obviously didn’t remember the last of what had happened, either that or he was a particularly paranoid nin- which was unusual for one so young. The Copy Nin could tell the moment that the memories came back to the other, as the tense form relaxed slightly, and he stopped feigning sleep. He was _pretty_ good. If Kakashi hadn’t been a nin of the caliber he was, the little act _may_ have fooled him.

Kakashi slid his ANBU mask back into place before the other could see him, then nodded to the younger boy as he sat up and turned to face him.

The other bowed his head slightly. Kakashi had left his oversized scarf where it was—he of all people knew the value of privacy—but as the boy began to speak, he almost wished he hadn’t. Without the fiery tinge of anger in his voice, he sounded younger than Kakashi had imagined him to be. Maybe only thirteen or fourteen instead of fifteen or sixteen. It would be easier to tell if he could see more of the boy’s face than just his eyes.

“Please excuse me, ANBU-san. I’m sorry for my failure. Thank you for rescuing me.” The boy sighed audibly, hands coming together to rest on his lap. “Next time….. next time, I’ll pay more attention. I won’t let myself push that far, that hard. I will do better.”

_Hn. So Konoha knew exactly what mistakes he’d made._ Even _more_ interesting—it usually took the green nins a bit longer to figure out what they were screwing up. Kakashi merely nodded.

Apparently, though, Konoha was a young man of many words, as opposed to Kakashi’s few, as he continued with no encouragement, “I was just, so….. so _angry!_ ”

He throws his hands up briefly in burst of frustration and lets them drop again, still continuing to talk. “You know? I’m supposed to _control_ my anger. A shinobi is supposed to control _all_ of their emotions…. But, but ….. I just—aggh!”

He finally gives up trying to explain himself as Kakashi peers closer at his eyes, noticing the faintest blush staining the skin below his brown eyes.

“So, Konoha,” Kakashi finally breaks his silence, “What is a fresh chuunin doing way out here all alone?”

“Um, yes. Konoha. And yes, chuunin.” The boy nods, obviously assuming Kakashi was asking for him to confirm his allegiance and rank, instead of using ‘Konoha’ as a name, “And I wasn’t alone. Not until yesterday afternoon, actually.”

Kakashi says nothing else for the time being, sensing the boy will fill the silence with more information if he waits long enough, which, he thinks, won’t be that long. He’s right. Konoha starts talking again almost immediately. Kakashi smiles internally. _What a funny quirk, particularly for a ninja. Interesting kid._

“We were a two-team squad—Team Hizashi and team Thirteen. Hizashi-taichou and his two genin, and a four-man….. er, _person_ chuunin team—myself, Anko-sempai, Kotetsu-sempai and Izumo-sempai.” The boy cocks his head to the side, studying Kakashi intently. “ANBU have the highest clearance other than the Hokage.”

Konoha says it more like a statement, but Kakashi confirms with a nod anyways.

Konoha nods back in response and then continues, “So, I suppose it doesn’t matter if I tell you this. You could look my mission up in the archives if you wanted to anyways.” He cocks his head to the other side, “Though…..” he hesitates.

Kakashi wonders why. Waits for him to keep talking. It takes longer this time. The boy seems pensive.

\-------------

Iruka is undecided. While he is not particularly paranoid, his Nii-san had always trained him to be skeptical, thorough and above all else- _smart_. He’d already screwed up by pushing himself too hard and then passing out. The other nin seemed peaceful enough when he wasn’t snapping necks, and he didn’t want to lose the help—or _worse_ find out it really was an enemy in disguise by pushing…..

_But…_.. While the other nin _seemed_ to be an ANBU from Konoha, if he was strong enough, he could have killed a Konoha ANBU and assumed his identity and Iruka _did_ have sensitive scrolls of information on his person. _Maybe, though….. maybe he could circumvent suspicion if he phrased it carefully enough._

_\-------------_

Kakashi watched covertly as indecision warred in brown eyes, then cocked an eyebrow as the younger nin spoke again.

“ANBU-san, thank you again for helping me. I hope you’re not injured? I’ve trained as a field medic….. I could….. check if you’d allow me. I’d like to….. repay your kindness.” The boy spoke in very careful, measured tones.

It took a moment, but realisation dawned on Kakashi quickly and he laughed to himself in his mind. _Kindness my ass, that kid_ is _clever._

Outwardly, though, the Copy Nin just shrugged, watching amusedly as frustration momentarily blossomed in expressive brown eyes when he answered, “Mah, I’m really fine, Konoha. You needn’t bother yourself.”

Mild frustration boiled over in the younger nin at his subterfuge either being found out or inadvertently deflected. He must also have realised Kakashi was using Konoha as a name, as he snapped out tersely, “Please stop calling me Konoha, ANBU-san. I _do_ have a name.”

“Mah,” Kakashi responded in a drawl, adding--just to rile the other up, another, “ _Konoha-san_ , and I’d use it, too, if you’d given it at any point.”

“Oshika!” was the short, waspish reply.

“Well, Oshika- _kun_ ,” Kakashi drawled, then smiled behind his ANBU mask, deciding that _probably_ fourteen- or at least _almost_ was old enough to flirt- “I was obviously fit enough to carry you here— _so_ …..unless you’re just trying to get under my cloak?” He left the question hanging in the silence….. Imagining the younger man’s mouth opening and closing in a fish-like gape as the scarf around his face shifted and crinkled slightly.

What he got in response was a slightly cracked voice indignantly sputtering, “Why, I—I _never!_ ”

_Yup,_ Kakashi smiled, noting delightedly that it hadn’t even taken the chuunin a second to understand, _Old enough to flirt._

“Then?” He prompted smugly.

\-------------

Iruka, blushing _furiously_ at the other nin’s insinuation that he was after something _sexual_ —in a situation like _this, really_? _What a pervert!_ Outwardly, however, he tried (and failed) to project an unruffled air as he cut straight to the point instead, throwing caution to the wind in his indignation.

\-------------

The younger teen, obviously flustered but trying to hide it, responded bluntly, “May I see your tattoo, ANBU- ** _san_**?”

Kakashi smiled to himself. _He was_ right _, the boy_ was _clever (and the mouth on that one!—honestly, how could the chuunin make an honorific sound like such an_ insult _?)—trying to figure out Kakashi’s true allegiance without rocking the boat, so to speak._

_ANBU tattoos were created with a secret jutsu passed down from Hokage to Hokage, the technique known only by those that had either marked with it or been marked by it. While only the Hokages knew how to create the seal (and Kakashi himself, he mused, as his Sharingan had recorded his being formed)—a few members of Konoha’s forces were trained to identify and verify them._ Though, going over that list mentally— _jounin gatekeepers, ANBU captains, clan heads, the archive seal master and the highest-level medi-nin_ ….. he couldn’t figure out how a chuunin would know, especially one as newly minted as this.

He decided to humour the boy anyways, since he found him rather interesting, he figured it might be interesting what he’d do next.

\-------------

Iruka didn’t think the other would give in that easily, he waited with baited breath for a negative reaction, coiled and ready to try and run if this went sideways—but to his surprise, the older nin shrugged, then dropped the cloak off his shoulder, baring it for Iruka’s inspection.

\-------------

The other boy hadn’t expected Kakashi to cooperate, he noted. Though, that didn’t stop him from reacting swiftly and covering his surprise. The smaller teen scooted around the edge of the fire and squinted his eyes in the dim light, obviously trying to determine the validity of the ANBU tattoo swirled across Kakashi’s bicep.

Kakashi had expected the _visual_ scrutiny, of course. What he didn’t expect, however, what made him shift slightly, almost imperceptibly, in surprise, was the other boy reaching out with one hand to catch Kakashi’s bicep. The touch of warm fingers to his chilled skin almost burned.

\-------------

Iruka couldn’t decide whether to move slowly so as not to spook or provoke the ANBU, or move quickly to assure he could properly check the tattoo. When he noted that the ANBU jerked slightly, but still allowed Iruka to touch, he decided he could move slower and frowned slightly at the marked skin.

\-------------

Kakashi repressed an involuntary shudder as a dark thumb traced delicately over his tattoo. Fourteen or not, this kid sure was pushing some of the Copy Nin’s buttons. Besides, he reasoned to himself, three years older wasn’t exactly obscene—even if he’d estimated the boy’s age _wrong_ , with a voice that could go _that_ deep, he couldn’t be more than four years the chuunin’s senior. He resisted letting his eyes slide closed and instead watched the other’s expressive eyes.

He didn’t think the younger teen was doing it on purpose anyways. He was obviously concentrating on the task at hand and pushed his thumb harder into the pale flesh covering the tattoo as he sighed.

He let go of the Copy Nin’s arm to sigh. His tone was full of consternation as he spoke, “I hate to ask, but…..” Kakashi watched as Konoha (he decided that he’d keep the nickname, whether or not _Oshika-kun_ liked it) slid his hand into one of his pockets and pulled out a small scroll, unfurling it on the ground and making a few hand seals, effectively unsealing an inkpot and calligraphy brush.

Kakashi doesn’t immediately respond, though he frowns to himself behind his mask. _The kid obviously knows the fuinjutsu to verify a real ANBU tattoo. That shortens the list of candidates considerably—an apprentice to the archives seal master or a clan heir then—only which clan? Seal masters didn’t usually come that young, or if they did, they’d be at least Tokubetsu and not Chuunin._

He responds carefully, “Just to be clear, I’m not saying _no_ ….. but I will need more information if you want to try that.” He lifts his chin in the direction of the supplies, then sweeps his eyes up and down the younger nin’s cloaked form, feeling an instinctual pull that he could trust this boy—not that he’d let that on to the other nin, adding, “Perhaps I don’t trust you either.”

The other teen huffs out a short breath. He says resignedly, “I’m not going to seal your chakra or anything. I just want to check. Or do you truly believe an injured chuunin could get the jump on an ANBU?”

Kakashi almost cackles with laughter on the inside. Oh, the _attitude_ on this one! He hasn’t had this much fun in….. well, since he can remember, actually.

Outwardly, he drops his voice an octave, leaning in like it’s the most natural thing in the world and almost purrs, “How about a secret for a secret, Konoha?”

Kakashi can see the other teen quickly bristle at the continued nickname, but he also notes, rather triumphantly, that he also represses an involuntary shudder and reciprocates leaning in.

It takes a moment for him to recover himself.

“What do you want to know?”

“Well,” Kakashi begins slowly, “How about we start with the fact that you seem to know how to verify an ANBU tattoo and you’re only a chuunin?”

The dark-eyed nin rolls his eyes. _Rolls his eyes._ At the Copy Nin. **_The_** _Copy Nin_! Kakashi concedes to himself that of course the chuunin doesn’t _know_ he’s the Copy Nin, given the ANBU mask, but it still irks him a bit nonetheless. He wonders if his reaction would change if he _did_ know. Most people, even—or _especially_ shinobi, were awed and cowed by his reputation alone, never mind his intimidating presence. Konoha seems neither, even when faced with an ANBU.

Konoha rubs his palms over his knees. Sighs. Then begrudgingly bit out between gritted teeth, “I’m a second.”

_Ah, that explains it, then. All clan heads’ first and second children are trained in the old clan ways, just in case._

“Which clan?” Kakashi cocks his dually mask covered, mask covered face.

The younger teen huffs, obviously getting impatient. “Na-ra,” he spits out, exaggerating each syllable and punctuating his annoyance with _another_ eye-roll.

Kakashi smiles to himself. He likes this one’s spunk. “Impatient, are we?”

Still another eye roll, followed by a sigh this time. _Unusual impatience for a Nara._

Kakashi lets out a short, soft laugh, which he thinks makes the chuunin blush—from the little he can see of his face; but he extends his arm towards the other anyways. “All right, Konoha. You’ve earned it, I suppose.” The chuunin turns his gaze warily to Kakashi’s mask, then glances down at his arm, but doesn’t move immediately, as if waiting for the ANBU to retract the offer.

“A secret for a secret, Konoha.” He repeats, as he extends his arm a little closer to the dark-eyed nin. As the Nara takes it and reaches for his calligraphy brush, Kakashi tries his name out in his head.

_Nara Oshika. Na-ra O-shi-ka. Hn. Nope, he liked Konoha better._ He smiles to himself, fairly certain this choice will annoy the younger shinobi to no end (and revelling in that just a bit). _A bit odd his name_ ends _with ‘Shika,’ and doesn’t_ begin _with it—though, as a second child and therefore only the spare (callous as that seemed, that was shinobi life), he supposed it wouldn’t matter as much as the firstborn’s name. Besides, the Naras had to run out of ‘shika’ names eventually…. Maybe it had begun already._

“That’s it? That easy?” The dark-eyed nin continues to draw a line of characters down Kakashi’s arm with a mixture of ink and melted snow.

It’s just cold enough to make the Hatake shiver. _Only from the cold_ , he assures himself.

Konoha continues, “My name isn’t _exactly_ a secret, ANBU-san, unlike you.” This is stated quietly, almost matter-of-factly, if not inexplicably _hesitantly_.

Kakashi shrugs with his free arm. “Maybe I like you, Konoha.”

Konoha snorts derisively. “Yes, after knowing me for what, all of half an hour?”

Kakashi answers cheekily, “More like an entire day and night. We’ve been talking half an hour, yes. But you were out like a light for over twenty hours and I watched most of your fight. And,” he pauses for effect, waiting until the other teen looks up to contemplate his mask, then leaning in to whisper huskily, we could always spend this time alone _getting_ to know each other really well, ne, Konoha-kun?”

\-------------

Iruka snaps, at his wits’ end with the inexplicably flirty ANBU, “Because watching a man sleep without his permission is _such_ a turn on!”

Though Iruka can’t see it, he’s sure that behind the wolf mask, the ANBU is grinning.

\-------------

Kakashi grins. _Perhaps he’s just a touch_ frost-smitten _with the ice-user,_ he thinks. Then snickers quietly to himself at his bad pun.

Now sitting a good half a foot away, after shoving Kakashi’s arm out of lap, Konoha groans.

\-------------

From his new position against the cave wall, Iruka pouts. This is going to be a _long_ trip home.


	6. Slippery Slope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N.B. So—they’re still going faster than Hizashi and his group (who, let’s say, will take 5-8 weeks getting home), but because Iruka was poisoned (they just want more time together, cough, cough, wink, wink, nudge, nudge), they’re going to go a bit slower than Kakashi’s allotted two weeks. It’s about three weeks travel time home for the boys and if it was confusing having Kakashi guessing Iruka’s age over and over, don’t forget—I had him make chuunin just before he turned 14, and he’s been a chuunin for a while, so he is over 14, given his birthday, close to 14 and a half, while Kakashi just turned 17. Also, given the length of travel time—expecting Kakashi to stay double-masked the entire time is asking a lot. Therefore- not sure if I’m describing it correctly, but the henge Kakashi uses is his future Sukea disguise, which Iruka unwittingly provides the name for. 
> 
> Also, they use the term ‘green’ not as an insult, but a way to denote someone new to the profession or to a promotion, to indicate inexperience rather than any type of prejudice.
> 
> 1\. As most people know by now a play on a quote-- As said by many famous persons, such as Mark Twain.

\-------------

Kakashi still hadn’t seen Konoha’s face. It had been several days of travel time already and he was extremely frustrated. He was beginning to see why everyone wanted a look under _his_ mask.

He looked up, across the fire at the younger boy. He’d finally asked his age and was relieved to find the boy was almost fourteen and a half to Kakashi’s seventeen. He’d redoubled his flirting efforts, though this only seemed to tick the younger nin off. Today, though, today he wanted to see Konoha’s face.

Kakashi poked at the flames. “So….. I have a request.”

The dark eyes looked up at him, suspicion clearly written in their usually warm brown depths. An eyebrow cocked, obviously waiting for Kakashi to continue.

“It’s been three days,” he paused, “and while ANBU are trained to keep our masks on for long periods of time….. until we met I had been travelling alone and well—any enemy nin who saw me could be killed, so…..”

“So, you had been travelling without the mask.”

Kakashi nodded. The dark-eyed nin cocked his head to the side. “You could use a henge. I’m a Nara, not a Hyuga or Uchiha. I wouldn’t know the difference.”

Kakashi considered his next words. “Yes, but….. I was hoping to maybe, trade another secret for a secret, Konoha.”

\-------------

Iruka rankled slightly at the nickname. He had given the ANBU his clan name, but the older teen refused to use it, instead calling him “Konoha” all the time. He was of half a mind that the other shinobi was doing it just because it pissed him off. From what he was learning about the other, he was almost certain it was.

“I can’t let my face be seen, either.”

Though the other teen was always somewhat slouched, he visibly deflated a little.

“You…… said you saw what I did in my fight.”

Kakashi nodded.

“And you’re not some low-ranked green.”

Neither spoke for a while.

“You must know that technique is….. not _average_.” Iruka hedged about how much he should tell the older shinobi.

“It’s definitely not a regular shadow.” The ANBU tilted his head and continued, almost questioningly, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think perhaps it was a kekkai genkai.”

Iruka shuddered. _Too close. Too close to the truth_ …… but he felt in his gut that the other nin was trustworthy. “I may…… have _exaggerated_ the other day.”

\-------------

Kakashi’s interest was piqued. “About?” he prodded.

“About how my name wasn’t exactly a secret.” From what little Kakashi could see of his face, the lie by omission was both embarrassing and frustrating for the younger man.

Since he liked him, he decided he could cut the kid a little slack. After all, lies were a shinobi’s bread and butter—and at that point, Konoha had just met him. The fact that he was admitting it now meant in their short time together, he’d already learned to trust the Copy-Nin.

“Go on,” he encouraged.

“I _am_ a Nara.”

Kakashi noted the slightly defensive tone as he waited for the other teen to continue.

“But…… I wasn’t originally from the main branch of the family.”

_Ah, so he_ could _be descended from a Kiri-clan then._

“My uncle adopted me when my parents died.”

_It happened_ , Kakashi knew all too well, in a shinobi village, _far more often than it should_.

“They died at the hands of a hunter-nin.”

The boy wouldn’t look him in the eye and Kakashi knew it probably took everything the other shinobi had to admit that.

“Your face can’t be seen this close to the border.”

The younger man shook his head.

Kakashi sighed. _Damnit…… he wanted to see the kid’s face. I can’t try to kiss him with masks and scarves in the way……. I mean, uh, I can’t……_ talk _to him properly without seeing his expressions….. yeah. Talk to him. That was it. Ugh._ Then he smiled slyly, and repeated what seemed to be becoming their personal means of communication, “A secret for a secret, Konoha?”

The boy looked up then, his eyes crinkling in question.

“I don’t usually show much of my face at home, either.” Kakashi knew he was skating on thin ice, so to speak. While the Copy-Nin wasn’t the only nin to wear some form of mask or face covering regularly, there weren’t so many that did that the boy couldn’t figure it out eventually if he thought on it long and hard enough.

“So,” he continued, butterflies building in his tummy—he didn’t particularly like the feeling—it had never happened before, so he chose to ignore it, “we could compromise. We’re going to be stuck together for the foreseeable future and while it may be practical to cover our faces in this weather, most of our travel will be in warmer countries.”

The boy nodded thoughtfully.

“So, we change just a little. A tweak here, a freckle there….. Remove any personally identifiable marks.” He wouldn’t admit it, but at this point, Kakashi was holding his breath in anticipation of Konoha’s response.

\-------------

Iruka considered. It would be more comfortable to breath freely, he could admit. And—only the other teen would really have to see him—he was right that they’d be dispatching any enemy nin anyways. It was protocol. He bit his lip behind his scarf.

He could get rid of the scar on his nose. Of the light dusting of freckles across his cheeks. Shikaku always laughed that he still had some baby fat, too, at his age—though Iruka had noticed that the more he grew, the more his facial structure had started to resemble his brother and father’s—he could narrow his cheeks a little—like growing up would eventually do to his features anyways. Decided, he nodded to himself.

“All right, ANBU-san. It’s a deal.” He paused, boldened by the other pushing boundaries anyways. “Though you have a nickname for me and I can’t call you anything but ANBU-san.”

\-------------

Kakashi smiled to himself. “You could give me a name.”

The other boy slid towards the Copy-Nin. “Are you scared?”

Kakashi, though trembling on the inside (he hadn’t shown his face in years, he’d have to do something to cover the scar bisecting his eye, and he really hoped the other nin was too young—at two and a half years his junior, that would have made the boy four or five when Kakashi’s father had…… _passed on_ ; though there were always stories he could have heard— to recognize Sakumo’s likeness in his face), he steadied his voice and lied, “No.”

The other boy was sitting directly in front of him now, one hand on either side of Kakashi’s ANBU mask. “Yes, you are.”

Kakashi refuses to answer.

“That’s all right,” the boy murmurs, pulling the top of the scarf away from his hair, revealing the classic Nara ponytail, “I’m afraid too.”

Kakashi tries to steady shaking hands beneath his cloak as he pulls his inner mask down to his neck, preparing to make the hand signs for a henge.

The boy pauses, then seems to decide changing the Nara hairstyle might help him disguise himself too, and pulls out his hair tie. He flashes through the hand signs for a henge, then pulls his scarf all the way off.

Kakashi isn’t a romantic at heart. He’s too pragmatic. It’s the genius in his brain. So, it’s not like the other boy’s face takes his breath away or anything. But, Kakashi concedes, he is a rather attractive young man—with the Nara hair and eye-colouring, maybe slighter darker skin. He has a shorter nose than Kakashi and, though it’s slender now, he imagines that as the boy grows, he’ll have a wider jaw than the jounin himself. The boy smiles shyly, tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear. Kakashi decides he likes the long hair. It’s not _too_ feminine—(with his more willowy frame, _Kakashi_ would look feminine with long hair, he knows)—not on this boy, anyways.

The boy fiddles his hands in his lap at Kakashi’s long contemplation.

“Sukea. I’ve decided to call you Sukea-san.” He looks up, a mischievous light in his eyes, and Kakashi is annoyed the boy would basically call him ‘scared,’ but the chuunin continues, his explanation soothing the Copy-Nin’s ruffled feathers, “Because being brave is not a lack of fear.1It is choosing to follow your nindo, to walk the path of a soldier….. or even to show your true self to another even if you are afraid that is _true_ bravery.” The boy’s hands slide Kakashi’s ANBU mask off to reveal his henged visage as his words taper off to a whisper.

Kakashi thinks the boy will drop his hands now that he’s removed the mask. He doesn’t, and Kakashi suddenly remembers the boy’s fingers brushing over his ANBU tattoo—Konoha is a touchy-feely one, he smiles inwardly, though the close contact makes it difficult not to tremble.

\-------------

Iruka runs his hands down the sides of the ANBU’s face, and leans in close to whisper, “Your name will remind me of how brave you are.”

He smiles at the older teen, eyes crinkling at the corners.

\-------------

Kakashi can’t help it. If Konoha wants bravery—well the bravest thing Kakashi can think of doing right now is acting on a reckless impulse. So, he doesn’t think—he just does it. He surges forward quickly before losing the nerve and locks lips with the other teenager.

\-------------

Iruka swallows a shocked gasp, wide-eyed as the ANBU kisses him. He knew he was flirty, he’d gathered that much….. but he’d though it was just a personality quirk. But, he supposes, he was a little slow to react, and now the other boy is pulling away, red lighting up pale cheeks bellow purple tattoos.

_Oh, no._ Iruka does _not_ like that. He chases the other boy’s lips, letting his eyes slide closed as he winds a hand in the wavy brown hair at the nape of the other’s neck. He feels the other sigh contentedly in relief, and he’s suddenly very grateful he’d practiced kissing other boys’ those few years ago—as otherwise, _this_ —this heat, this quickened heartbeat, this breathlessness—would be _very_ overwhelming. Actually, it _is_ overwhelming, and Iruka can feel a matching blush rush his cheeks as he sits back and contemplates the other boy’s face.

\-------------

Kakashi knows they’re climbing a slippery slope. While it is good for shinobi to have important people—it gives them the necessary motivation to always come home—for most, _~~love~~_ , no! _choice_ simply isn’t usually a luxury they have. Most clans arranged the best marriages for their members, even regular shinobi with no clan avoided marrying civilians—knowing it could cut their children’s chakra reserves or control—most shinobi married a team member, because those were the only ones they trusted completely, whether or not there was any love or physical attraction.

Kakashi also knew that as the last Hatake—at some point, the Council would try to order him to marry a woman and produce an heir. As the second son in the main branch of the Naras, Oshika would definitely be _encouraged_ to marry and produce at least one child as well—if not required to, as his older brother definitely would be. The Naras, Akimichis and Yamanakas had some of the laxest marriage requirements….. but Kakashi knew a same-sex relationship—while not _condemned_ , would not be _celebrated_ either—not for the second child of a clan head, anyways.

And—he couldn’t seem to help it….. It had been almost two weeks since their first kiss and Kakashi was not just attracted to the other teenager physically, the lack of sex didn’t bother him, which he found surprising;—he found him mentally stimulating and – most importantly, he thought, _funny_. The boy could make him _laugh_ like no one else, and in a world like theirs, that was priceless.

Warm, kind and outrageous, his mentor’s wife came the closest. But with Konoha, Kakashi was relaxed, felt accepted and dare he say it—was _happy._ This kind of bond, in the shinobi world— _could_ be a liability. Especially for someone like the infamous Copy-Nin. But if Kiri-hunters were already a danger to the other boy, how bad could Kakashi’s enemies really compare? Happiness, warmth, laughter.

It was priceless. Absolutely, fucking priceless. **_Priceless_**. He watched the dark-haired boy pack up the last of their camp, shoving his bedroll into his pack and brushing dirt over the last of the ashes of their fire. He thought, for the first time in his life, that maybe he _did_ have a heart left under all of his pain….. maybe he could learn to _love_ this boy as much as he _liked_ him now.

\-------------

Iruka was definitely not innocent—he’d never gone all the way yet—but at moments like these, he wondered if that was what was on the other shinobi’s mind. The older boy would watch him, with a soft, almost longing expression on his face.

Iruka supposed he wouldn’t mind…… He hadn’t done everything—but he had done _some_ things before—he’d experimented with Ibiki and while he still did find the occasional girl attractive, he knew he definitely leaned more towards other boys.

The civilians might not understand it, but Iruka also knew most shinobi were bisexual—you learned to find comfort where you could get it and when you were always one step away from dead, you kind of stopped caring what others thought of you—and it was a plus to be comfortable with any type of partner for possible missions—but he had the feeling that his current (he hesitated to call a deadly ANBU his snuggle-buddy, but really, other than kissing that’s all they did) _bed partner,_ may be interested _only_ in other boys and men.

This made Iruka pause and really consider the possibility for a minute, as while he knew his parents would never _disown_ him for loving another man—his mother had made that much clear before—he also knew it would be _easier_ —both easing the pressure on his brother to marry and produce heirs if he eventually produced a couple of spares himself as well and the pressure put on their father by the elders—to end up with a woman.

Did he want to, though? He’d always known that while the Nara men in general found their hot-headed and heavy-fisted spouses both troublesome and tiresome—that they did in fact, love them dearly, and _troublesome_ was more of a pet name than an insult—but opening up to anyone—either man or woman—would mean opening them up to his secret heritage—and the danger brought with it of Kiri hunter-nins. Did he ever want to put anyone through that? It already hurt his heart to lose his first parents—he always worried about his family now, too—they knew, and it put them all in danger.

He grimaced. Why could the road to happiness never be easy? Though neither of them had admitted it—or would, he mused, Iruka knew that both of them had been dragging their feet getting home—if only to spend more time together. He would no longer be doing that, now. He would insist they move as fast as possible. He resolved to push the other boy away. ANBU or not—Kiri hunter nin were _vicious_ , and often S-ranked opponents.

Otousan would get the Sandaime to have one of the Yamanakas seal the ANBU’s memories of him. It would hurt, Iruka knew. But he would rather hurt than watch another precious person close to him die.

\-------------

Kakashi was confused. Just when he had decided to pursue the other boy—and he had decided that. He’d decided that the boy was smart enough, and discreet enough to know that if the Copy-Nin approached him in the village and quietly offered him a _‘secret for a secret,’_ that they could pursue an actual, real relationship without anyone ever wondering how they’d met.

Except….. except as much as Kakashi was trying to draw the other boy closer, Konoha kept pushing him farther and farther away. He’d also dropped the charade that neither of them could go any faster, and they were now only a day away from the village. Kakashi was panicking slightly on the inside. He didn’t want to lose this warmth, this new light he’d found.

\-------------

A mile away from the village, Iruka stopped abruptly. When the other boy caught on and circled back to him, he dropped out of the tree. Iruka took his hand and smiled up at him softly. The other boy had pulled his ANBU mask firmly back in place for this last day of travel. Iruka sidled forward and questioningly placed both of his hands on the edges of the mask. He waited for any kind of signal.

\-------------

A shiver ran down Kakashi’s spine. After almost a week of the other methodically pulling away, he wasn’t sure what to make of this request. He did, however, let the younger man pull his ANBU mask up.

As warm lips met his, Kakashi felt relief course through him. It was short-lived, though, as he heard the next words escape the other shinobi’s lips.

\-------------

He couldn’t help it. He knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted one last one to remember the ANBU by. When he pulled back from their kiss, Iruka pulled up his own scarf to obscure the broken heart he was sure could be read in his expression.

He mumbled, “I just wanted to say goodbye properly, ANBU-san. I surely will miss you.” Iruka had the feeling the ANBU had the intention of approaching him as his true self in the village—but only Iruka knew that he’d make sure the other couldn’t. That Iruka and their time together would be nothing, not even a memory. It made him undeniably sad.

\--------------

Kakashi let his fingers linger on the small patch of cheek that was all that was left peeking out of the top of the scarf. He smiled to himself. Maybe he could give his _friend?_ a hint of his intentions. “Perhaps it won’t be our last meeting, Konoha. You never know.”

Kakashi’s hidden lips quirked up into a small smile, but his words only seemed to make the other boy sadder, and Kakashi frowned in puzzlement as the boy scrubbed a single tear away, answering, with a smile that didn’t reach his troubled brown eyes, “Yes, perhaps…..”

\-------------

The Copy- Nin didn’t understand until he felt the telltale prickle of a Yamanaka at his mind’s edge, an inobtrusive trickle of chakra moulding around his memories, before shutting them away from the rest of his mind. The last thing he sees is an anguished flash of regret across almost-familiar features. By then, it was too late. He knew something was missing from his mind, from his heart. He just didn’t remember it was a boy he liked to call Konoha.

\-------------

Iruka watched in morbid fascination as his father’s best friend and former teammate sealed away the ANBU’s memories of their journey home together. As the light of recognition dimmed in the older boy’s eyes, Iruka finally dropped his henge, allowing all of his emotions to show on his scarred face for a full second, before shuttering his emotions like a true shinobi. He was so distraught that he, nor anyone else in the room, noticed a flash of red behind the ANBU mask.


	7. Fire and Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N.B. Because I fiddled with the ages of the ‘adult’ group of shinobi—they’re older during the Kyuubi attack than they had been—however, given that the age of majority in a lot of places is 21, not 18 like it is here, I imagine that Minato still forces many of the younger shinobi not to fight—and I’m not sure his reasoning in the real series other than they had been kids, but here, he knows he can seal it into his child if he has to, but he needs to leave someone behind to rebuild the village—who better than the young adults?
> 
> Also, this one chapter spans the year and a half from their mission to the night of the Kyuubi attack—I tried to include written clues anytime there’s a significant time-skip. On the night of the attack—Kakashi is barely a month eighteen and Iruka is fifteen and a half.

\-------------

Everything settles down after the mission, Iruka can almost pretend he’s ok as he goes back to training; as the new Hokage, Namikaze Minato, takes over for the Sandaime. He can almost pretend that his heart doesn’t hurt for a man whose name he doesn’t even know.

He keeps himself busy learning more about his gift. He takes over most of the research into the Yuki clan from his father and brother, and while Shikaku sometimes looks right through him, looks at him sadly, their father is happy Iruka has finally found an intellectual pursuit that he is nearly obsessed with.

\-------------

The first time Kakashi does it, he’s not sure why. He puts on a disguise, picks up a camera and walks into the village.

He uses the camera like a mask, and it isn’t until he finds himself using the Sharingan behind the lens as he holds it up to take yet another picture that he realizes what he’s doing. He’s looking for something. For what, he’s not sure. But on an instinctual level, he knows he’s looking for something, he can feel that something is missing.

And if pretending to be a photographer so he can use the Sharingan to scour the village in his off time, looking for something he’s not even certain what _is_ becomes Kakashi’s new normal—well, he doesn’t have to tell that to his sensei, who worries enough as it is and doesn’t need anything else on his now very full, Hokage-sized plate.

He decides to name his other face Sukea. He’s not sure why….. it just feels right. He doesn’t notice right away that most of the pictures he takes are of boys just slightly younger than him. If many of them have tan skin and warm, kind eyes, and even more have long hair, well…...it takes him a while to figure that out too.

\-------------

Despite Minato-san taking over running the village, the Sandaime still meets Iruka every week for tea. As far as Iruka knows, the wily old man hasn’t told his successor about Iruka or his heritage.

It’s during one of these teas, three-quarters of a year after his disaster mission (and subsequent heartbreak)— to the edge of the Land of Mist, joined by Hizashi-sensei and the Sandaime’s son, Asuma, that Hiruzen mentions he might have suggested Iruka’s name for promotion to Jounin and that the new Hokage may or may not contact him soon about a test.

Iruka hides his unhappiness at the suggestion. He stays quiet—he may not love the life of a shinobi—but he’s decent at it and as a Nara—it’s expected anyway.

He politely thanks the Sandaime for the honour and finishes his tea. He catches Asuma’s eye and nods. While he’s not as close with him as he is with his older brother, he does consider Asuma and Hiruzen family. The younger men excuse themselves and leave quickly.

Asuma knows Iruka well and they train well into the evening working out Iruka’s frustration being stuck in an occupation he isn’t passionate about.

\-------------

Kakashi has been having dreams. For the first few months, he’d simply ignored them. From what he can gather, they’re memories from the Sharingan. As far as _he knows_ , he’s never seen them before and they’re not regular memories where he can hear and feel, they truly are just recordings from the Sharingan—so he assumes that maybe they’re some of Obito’s memories.

But when he dreams of a dark-eyed, long-haired boy leaning in to kiss his lips gently, that feels wrong too. No, these _can’t_ be Obito’s memories. His gut tells him that the boy is animportant person, but not Obito’s. He is important to _him_ , to Kakashi. He just can’t figure out _why_.

But if the memories are not his, and the boy is not Obito’s, then who is the boy of his dreams?

\-------------

Shikaku has never seen his brother like this. Not even as the little boy rescued from the Kiri hunter-nin. Iruka has locked himself away in his room. He hasn’t eaten in days. He has dark bags under his eyes. He wards the door so no one can enter besides Shikaku and when Shikaku does enter—Iruka tells him to go away.

It was an _accident_ , he keeps telling Iruka. Everyone who knows you knows you would never hurt a comrade on purpose. But Iruka won’t listen. He says accidents are preventable. He just keeps repeating that he lost control, that the ice is stronger than him, that he shouldn’t have this curse, that he can’t be trusted with it. Shikaku doesn’t miss that Iruka never calls it his gift anymore. He calls it his curse.

So, when he finally leaves his room one day, hair finally washed and up properly, clothes finally changed, and gaunt shadows hanging over his face, his family listens.

He wants his powers to be sealed, he says. He tried to separate the shadows from the ice during his Jounin test—he’d been studying both kekkai genkai extensively and thought he understood the theory enough that he could do it; and a no-pressure test was a better experimenting ground than out in the field when lives were at stake— but it had backfired and his sparring partner had nearly died when the two, both pure shadows and pure ice had exploded out from Iruka’s hand in opposite directions.

No one mentions it because it pains Iruka so, but they all know that the other Jounin candidate (though he passed) will never be rid of the scars across his head from the frostbite. Raidou is lucky he got the use of his right hand back. Minato-san offered Iruka the promotion too—but the Nara had declined. Then he’d fallen into a depression for hurting—almost killing—his friend.

Iruka likes to pretend that it didn’t hurt him, too. That he, too, hadn’t almost lost his arm. Raidou likes to point it out—he truly doesn’t blame the brunet. They’ve been friends since they were children, he reminds him.

Shikaku decides that if their father refuses, he’ll call in his friends Inoichi and Choza and ask them to help him seal his brother’s powers. He can’t stand to see the younger man so distraught. He figures that if they ask his brother’s sensei, Hizashi-san to help, that they can seal the kekkai genkai without hurting Iruka because Hizashi can use the Byakugan.

Iruka won’t be the same—he’ll have to re-learn chakra control and some of his reserves will go into forever holding the seal, so he’ll also have less to actively work with; and he will no longer be able to use his ice or shadow releases at all, even outside of the capacities of the kekkai genkai, and therefore any of the clan jutsus he’d finally been learning to adapt to his unique style—but maybe, Shikaku thinks, _Maybe he’ll be happier_.

\-------------

Shikaku, Iruka and Hizashi have perfected the seal. It took almost another half a year for them to design—but they’re finally ready. Iruka is chakrically strapped to the ground—it’s better that he doesn’t move at all during this procedure. Their parents know where they are, but Shikantekku said he refuses to watch one of his sons throw away his talent.

So here they are, on this October night, Hizashi drawing the characters for fuinjutsu over each of Iruka’s chakra points that he’s using the Byakugan to see. Inoichi and Choza are standing guard—they’re in one of the training fields just outside of Konoha—so it isn’t that dangerous….. but because Iruka’s base chakra will be cut nearly in half, and he’ll have to re-learn control and pushing it through the newly-sealed chakra points, he will pretty much be useless right after the seal is activated, and will take more time after to re-learn everything he already knew.

The seal is completed and as Hizashi and Shikaku himself push some of their own chakra into it to help it form and bind, the smell of acrid smoke reaches them on the night air.

The silence is broken by a wail that sounds like it’s from the mouth of a hellhound.

\-------------

Intellectually, Kakashi knows why his sensei sent him to protect Kushina-nee-chan instead of allowing him onto the battlefield—eighteen or not, most shinobi had very few precious people left and while Kakashi’s skill could surely help the young Hokage—he would prefer to protect his wife, child and student-turned-younger brother if he can help it all at. Even a Hokage has the right to be selfish sometimes.

He knows that if Minato dies tonight, that knowledge won’t make him feel any better in the morning.

He looks down, mortified to be helping his adopted big sister of all people give birth, then flinches as the clone whose hand she was grasping popped from the force of her grip.

\-------------

“Stay with Iruka!” Hizashi-san shouts as they feel a massive chakra flare, far too strong to be human—even shinobi. He takes off at run, leaving the Ino-Shika-Cho team to protect the currently helpless brunet.

The three older nins spare each other a look as Inoichi bites his lip.

They hear Iruka sigh, and turn to see him waving them off. “I’m chakra depleted and my control is poor right now—not non-existent. I’ll be fine. _Go_. You’re stronger together.”

Choza and Inoichi nod, taking off. Shikaku hesitates only a second longer. He gives his brother a rough, one-armed hug in passing, kissing him on the forehead.

Iruka’s right. He’s incapacitated, but he’s also smart. He won’t do anything reckless. He hopes. And whatever is attacking at the other end of the village, it needs to be stopped before it reaches the village. It needs to be stopped before it reaches the Nara compound, where Yoshina and their new son are. Shikaku shunshins after his team, praying he’ll catch up on time.

\-------------

Iruka wasn’t _planning_ on doing anything this reckless. He’s a Nara, after all, not an idiot.

But he’d heard the sound of voices. _Children’s_ voices.

As he stumbles, the toddler strapped to his back jostling a bit, he inwardly curses the timing. Why did this happen tonight, when he’s at his most vulnerable because of the seal?

He makes it to the shelter, just in time—the chuunin in charge of the Academy students is starting to pull the doors shut after his charges. Iruka drops off the three younglings in his care.

He should stay in the shelter. Intellectually, he knows it. But then he hears a familiar voice, only—only, it’s contorted in a pained wail and not the sound that should be coming out of his mother’s mouth.

Iruka turns and runs towards the sound, away from the shelter as the chuunin teacher bars the doors.

\-------------

Shikantekku looks up. He’d been fighting alongside his wife, thanking God his sons were at the other end of the village.

Then Shikaku and his team had showed up. Shikantekku showed no outward reaction, other than to shout a quick summary of the battle to them, but inside, his heart sank. He prayed that his oldest would survive this night even if he didn’t and he thanked God when Shikaku told him Iruka had stayed behind.

Then he’d heard his wife scream, and a blur sped past him. The blur was his younger son, who now cradled his mother in his arms as fires blazed all around them.

Oh, God, _no_.

\-------------


	8. Walls of Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N.B. Really not sure when Hizashi actually died, other than it being when Hinata and Neji were little, so I’m putting it as when they’re toddlers—1-3ish years old here. Also—fair warning—several time skips again. Finally, the forest thing with Mizuki, Iruka and Naruto is going to happen about two years sooner- when Naruto is ten, not twelve (it will help with ages in the next story, Ice, Ice, Baby).

\-------------

“Minato-sama has forbidden any shinobi under the age of twenty-one on the battlefield.” He looks pointedly at his younger son, who glares up at him defiantly.

“I’m not leaving her.” Iruka draws himself up a bit, “I’m not losing my mother _again_.”

Shikantekku nods to the scarred nin who’d overheard him. The Jounin tries to knock Iruka unconscious, but Iruka dodges—just barely, swinging round the branch to again land beside his mother. Shikantekku sees fire raining from the sky, towards his youngest and drops in front of him to shield him. He knows how much that seal took away from him. He doesn’t mind dying if it is to protect one of his sons.

\-------------

Iruka’s eyes blow wide in shock as his father drops in front of him. He hadn’t seen the fire. Now his father was slumped forward on him, he could smell the dark tang of burning flesh as the fire seared through his father’s back.

_It’s my fault. If I weren’t so weak right now. If I hadn’t insisted on the seal. If I’d stayed where Shikaku told me. If I had left when father told me. It’s_ my fault _. My fault, my fault, my fault._

\-------------

Shikantekku wishes he could explain it to his boys. He wishes there was more he could say to ease their pain.

_I’m so proud of you, Shikaku. You have a beautiful son. You chose a wonderful wife. You will make a better clan head than I, a better leader because you think not only with your head, but your heart—no matter how you try to hide it._

_It’s not your fault, Oshika. I’m sorry you have to lose your parents like this twice. I’m sorry I didn’t call you Iruka. I know it hurt, but I was trying to do what was best for you. I was wrong about the seal. I just want you to be happy._

_I love you both._

But he didn’t have the time. He looked wistfully at Shikaku, who’d just landed in a crouch alongside him, taking a breath. He looked below him, at Iruka, shielding his mother’s broken body with his own weakened one. He smiles shakily.

_At least_ , he thinks…… _at least you’re the last thing I’ll see_.

“Take care of each other…..” he whispers.

\-------------

Iruka is still hyperventilating, but the scarred nin from before, who was collecting children and teens and forcibly removing them from the fight is back. For the second time in his life, Iruka is dragged kicking and screaming from his dying parents.

\-------------

It has been almost half a year already. They’d buried their dead. They’d grieved. The Sandaime had stepped up and took office again.

It had been a bittersweet day that Shikaku had become clan head. He’d considered _ordering_ his brother to stay. But Iruka wouldn’t have listened anyways. He was too strong-willed, too hard-headed. More like their short-tempered but fiercely-loving mother than their father.

Shikaku supposed that at about twenty-five, he wasn’t really an orphan—but at fifteen and a half, his brother had been an orphan twice over. Knowing the pain he felt, he couldn’t imagine having to bear it twice, and at Iruka’s age.

Once a month dinners were far less than he wanted. A far cry from training every week and dinner every day, and the heartfelt conversations that they’d had before. But Shikaku didn’t understand Iruka’s pain, because he knew the boy blamed himself. So, he waited. Took the small conversations at dinner because that was what was offered.

When Iruka was ready, he’d come back to him. Until then, he was just happy that his brother’s attachment to his nephew was strong enough to keep him coming back for those monthly dinners. Shikamaru was the glue holding their broken family together right now.

\-------------

Iruka was a Nara. The seal could take away his kekkai genkai, it could mute his strength, but it could never dampen his Nara mind. He was methodical. Everyone was grieving. So much was lost that he knew he could fade into the background.

He’d taken an apartment alone. He couldn’t look his brother in the eyes knowing their father had died protecting _him._

_His fault, it was his fault._

He had taken back his name; since his kekkai genkai was gone, so was the danger.

His brother’s teammate—Inoichi—had a younger cousin that had always had a thing for Iruka. He flirted with her, spent time with her, and asked that she do to his friends what Inoichi had done to the ANBU a year ago. They would all remember him, unlike the ANBU—it was just his clan name—Oshika Nara— they were sealing, and any images they had of him using Black Ice. Their memories would just get a bit fuzzy when they tried to think about his name. They’d only know him as Iruka from now on. Then he’d used a fuinjutsu to seal the blonde’s memories.

He felt a bit badly, but it needed to be done. She only wouldn’t remember sealing the others, though, he reasoned. She’d still have all of her other memories and she’d still be his friend. He felt so guilty that he continually bought her candy and small gifts, did her little favours. It got to the point where she thought he was pursuing her.

Aside from being thankful she’d helped him—they had also grown up friends, so he didn’t resist the comforting pull when they became more. She was the first and last woman he ever loved. It hurt so bad when he lost her to an A-rank months later that when a pushy white-haired chuunin had glommed onto him the week after, he let the weird friendship happen, despite an odd unsettling feeling in his tummy.

He’d asked Asuma to help him re-register in the chuunin exams to pass under his new name. The older nin had managed to get his father to pass the paperwork without noticing until it was too late: Umino Iruka was officially a chuunin of Konoha, passed at sixteen, orphaned during the Kyuubi attack.

After a disastrous mission gone wrong because of Iruka’s poorer chakra and hand sign control than before, the Copy-Nin (of all people) convinced him to become an Academy Sensei. It was one of the best decisions he’d ever made. He’d finally found his passion. The white-haired friend, Mizuki, had seemed very happy too.

\-------------

Shikaku was an observant man. He did not like the white-haired man that had become his brother’s best friend, but after watching Iruka lose his first lover (how had a Nara, Akimichi or Yamanaka never become involved with another before this, he really wondered, especially with their always-close team ties) and then his sensei Hizashi within a year of each other, he let it be.

\-------------

Iruka had carved out a little niche for himself in the village, with his now-limited chakra—he kept himself busier than Shikaku wanted to see him work himself, but it kept his mind off things, he supposed. And it was comforting to know that Oshika had faded into the collective memory and he could just be Iruka—unassuming, if not loud and temperamental, chuunin.

\-------------

The last of Iruka’s first group of students had passed—he was receiving a new group of five-year olds today that would stay with him until they graduated between ten and twelve years old.

At first, Iruka _hates_ being the Jinchuriki’s teacher.

But then he finds him at the swings one day in the pouring rain after school, a smile lit up his entire face as he swings and laughs.

Immediately in full-on teacher mode, the now twenty-one-year-old brunet stops in front of the young boy.

“Naruto, what are you doing?”

The boys digs his feet abruptly into the ground to stop himself, face going both worried and guilty in an instant. He won’t look up from the ground as he answers, “Swinging.”

“Yes, I can _see_ that.” The brunet rolls his eyes in annoyance, letting his frustration seep into his voice. “Why are you swinging in the _rain_ , Naruto?”

He doesn’t hear a response right away, but since he has a barrier seal up as an umbrella, he waits it out. After a few minutes, he hears muffled sniffling. He frowns, then kneels in front of the young blond.

Taking in the boy’s slumped, shaking shoulders and really _seeing_ his too-thin frame, instead of just _looking_ at him, Iruka murmurs softer, “Why are you swinging in the rain, Naruto?”

The whispered response is so heartbreaking that Iruka is frozen in shock for a second. He knew the villagers weren’t particularly kind to the boy….. but still.

“I can only swing now. I know the cold can make me sick. But…… When it’s nice out, the other kids Tousans and Kaasans won’t let me play.”

Iruka’s walls, painstakingly kept up since his second father died slumped over him, begin to melt for a boy who has lost as much as he has. For a boy who has never known kindness.

_What kind of teacher am I_ , the Nara thinks, _if I cannot love an innocent child because of something that was outside of the boy’s control?_

He gently slides his arms around the tiny body, so gently that the boy freezes in shock, but as Iruka pulls him close, the boy melts a little too.

\-------------

After a year of bringing the boy an extra bento at lunch, of taking him out to Ichiraku’s once a week at the end of classes to tide him over a weekend that Iruka knows he will not be eating well for, Iruka decides to do something more about it.

He smiles at the now six-year-old, not quite so unhealthily skinny anymore, and ponders that the boy is roughly the same age he was when his aunt and uncle had adopted him. He wonders if that is old enough to ask him if he _wants_ to be Iruka’s family, or if Iruka should just surprise him.

Almost another year later, a year of sleepovers, extra tutoring and more bentos and Ichiraku’s, Iruka is glad he hadn’t mentioned anything to the boy, as the Council seems hell-bent on keeping the brunet school-teacher from adopting him. He wouldn’t have wanted to get his hopes up for this frustratingly long process.

He doesn’t know right away what changes their minds, but he’s glad when they finally do.

\-------------

Shikaku had heard of his brother’s quest to adopt the Jinchuriki. He’s happy. He knows his brother has only ever loved one woman and prefers men—and it would be harder for him to become a father, then. He also knows, though, that his little brother would be an amazing dad—has been to the Jinchuriki as best he could over the last few years despite all the Council’s roadblocks.

So, if he just happens to whisper in certain ears how a ‘weapon’ as destructive as a Jinchuriki could be is as much of a liability as it is a tool if said Jinchuriki has no reason, no bonds, no love holding his alliance to Konoha—but that giving him a father to call his own—a father whose allegiance has been to Konoha his entire shinobi career is the safest and surest course of action…… well, he smiles, you really can’t blame him.

\-------------

Iruka figured out it was because of Shikaku and the pressure he had brought down on the council with his fellow clan heads—the other two thirds of the currently reigning Ino-Shika-Cho team. But he doesn’t say anything.

He and his new son start attending his monthly dinners together, and if the budding brotherly relationship between Naruto and his nephew is a good excuse for him to start coming over and visiting his family for playdates on weekends too, well, he smiles, you really can’t blame him.

\-------------

And if Nara men prefer to passive-aggressively love and understand each other without ever talking about it….. well, Yoshina can fix that.

\-------------

Iruka rubs the sore spot on his head above his ponytail, wincing in sympathy as his brother does the same.

“She’s got quite an arm, that wife of mine, eh, Iru-kun?”

Iruka laughs quietly, the deep, rich sound music to his brother’s ears.

The stand in silence for a long while.

“I didn’t understand.” Iruka furrows his brow, thinking on how to continue.

He turns to face Shikaku, “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Iruka nods succinctly. “That’s what I’m trying to say. I understand now, and I’m sorry I pushed you away because of my own guilt.”

Shikaku pulls his brother into a rough side-hug. “Now you do. Now you have your own son, and you finally understand that it wasn’t anything you did that killed our father. As a father, he was happy to protect you, even with his life. I’m glad you’ve finally come home to me, little brother.”

Iruka winds his own arms around his brother’s middle, sighing wistfully when he notices they’re the same size now, and his brother is no longer his ‘big’ brother.

“Besides,” Shikaku shoves him away playfully, breaking the sad mood, “I understand too. It’s not your fault that you’re only a quarter Nara and your brain is just a little slower.”

“Hey!”

Yoshina smiles to herself as Iruka gives chase, Shikaku leaping into the nearest tree. She may appear to be a temperamental, overbearing bitch, but underneath all that, she’s a wife and a sister and a mother full of love. Shikaku has never let his guard down and been less than serious. He’s only ever been silly with one person—his little brother. She missed this.

The boys in the yard watch their fathers for a second, with questioning eyes, then the brunet shrugs as he follows his energetic cousin—who’s trying desperately (but very unsuccessfully) to climb the tree. All is right with her family. All is right with the world.

\-------------

Iruka is in the hospital, his son curled up on the end of the bed like a little blond guard dog when Shikaku enters. He nudges his own son, now ten, towards Naruto and Shikamaru dutifully pulls his sleepy cousin out of the room.

Shikaku sighs, running his fingers up one of the undamaged sides of his brother’s exposed back. The scar would be in the exact same place their father’s would have been had he survived that night.

“Sometimes you’re more like him than you know,” he whispers.

He hears a dark chuckle muffled by the pillow. “Nah, everyone knows I do everything more like Okaasan. Sometimes they say you can hear my yelling from three lands away.”

Shikaku shakes his head with a smile. He’s hesitant to bring it up—but he doesn’t want his brother to die like their father had. He’s older, maybe ready now.

“If your chakra wasn’t so low, Iruka, you could—”

“No.”

“But this wouldn’t—”

“No.” Iruka cuts him off again.

“I just want you to be safe and—”

The eye glaring balefully up at him disappears as Iruka turns his face to the window. “I said, no, Shikaku. I made my choice.”

Shikaku sighs. Iruka was more stubborn than their parents and his wife put together, and that was saying something.

The seal, he supposed, would stay forever.

\-------------

Fin

See you soon in Ice, Ice, Baby!

Love et bisous,

Niecey


End file.
